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E BEGINNINGS C. 
NE. . .... .: .AND 

JOHN FISKE 


1 
1 

j 

i 








r 









iMvbarti ^Oainitp Mml 




ANDOVER-HARVARD THEOLOGICAL 

LIBRARY 

MDCCCCX 

CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS 



Gift of lira* Sperry 



I 



iiui 



Mi r 



Slluieitrateti <etittion 

THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW 

ENGLAND 

OR THE PURITAN THEOCRACY IN 

ITS RELATIONS TO C:iVIL AND 

RELIGIOUS LIBERTY 

KY 

JOHN FISKK 



? 



k 



THE BEGINNIN(;S OF NEW ENGLAND 

OR THE PURITAN THEOCRACY IN 

ITS RELATIONS TO CIVIL AND 

RELIGIOUS LIBERTY 



BY JOHN FISKE 



II.LUSTRATKU WITH 

PORTRAITS, MAPS. FACSIMILES 

CONTEMPORARY VIEWS, PRINTS, AXD 

OTHER HISTORIC 

MATERIALS 



Hii: Lord Christ intend* id achieve gremermaiicis 
br ihi« litlle handEuI than ihe vnrld is aware ut — 
Edwami Ji.hksoh. H'omitr-lfsriine frx'ui/aa 
,/Zi^«'s S^„,^r in a™ E-ghHd- AI.W 




BOSTOX ANU NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON, MIFKLIN AND COMPANY 

X\)t Arim Atic )3irM, Cambnbgc 

MDCCCXCVHI 



T.'Ar.D 

THEot.Ov .M. Library 

CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 
/In, /// 



COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY JOHN FISKE 

COPYRIGHT, 189S, BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND CO. 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



F /'V 



f- I '.K- 




TO 
MY DEAR CLASSMATES 

BENJAMIN THOMPSON FROTHINGHAM 
WILLIAM AUGUSTUS WHITE 

AND 

FREDERIC CROMWELL 

/ DEDICA TR THIS BOOK 



9 



PREFACE 



In applying to the present work the same principle of 
illustration that was adopted in the case of " The American 
Revolution," in admitting nothing for the mere sake of em- 
bellishment, it must be pointed out that the conditions are 
in some respects less favourable. Of the kind of illustra- 
tions that possess real historical value, authentic portraits 
are among the most important. Now the portraits of emi- 
nent Americans of the latter half of the eighteenth century 
are abundant. The works of Copley, Stuart, Trumbull, and 
the elder Peale are legion, and they include most of the 
leading men of their time. With the founders of New Eng- 
land the case is different. Well-authenticated portraits of 
many of them have been preserved ; but of some of the 
most eminent none are now known to be in existence, and 
in some cases probably none were ever made. It is my rule 
to select for full-page photogravures the portraits of the 
most notable or most interesting personages who play a part 
in the narrative. The preeminence of such men, for exam- 
ple, as Winthrop, Cotton, Davenport, and Vane is thus em- 
phasized. How sad it is, then, to miss from the front rank 
of our gallery such men as W^illiam Bradford and Roger Wil- 
liams and Thomas Hooker ! The most painstaking research 
has failed to discover any portraits of these worthies.^ 

^ A portrait purporting: to be that of Ro^er Williams was engraved 
in Benedict's History of the Baptists, 1847, and may have been fre- 
quently reproduced, but it has been proved to be a mere fraud. See 
Memorial History of Boston, i. 173. 



viii PREFACE 

Again, how delightful it would be to have before us the 
features of stout-hearted John Wise, of the enthusiastic 
lidward Johnson, of the pungent " Simple Cobler of Agga- 
wam," of the much-tried Samuel Gorton, of the martyred 
Mary Dyer, or the gentle rhymer, Anne Bradstreet ! As 
for poor Anne Hutchinson, I have not found even her au- 
tograph signature, though it is hard to believe that it is not 
in existence. On the other hand, I have been so fortunate 
as to get some portraits which I believe are now published 
for the first time, — chief among them that of the regicide, 
William Goffe. 

Of caricatures and satirical prints there were plenty in the 
seventeenth century, but such opportunities for research as 
I have had in this direction have not elicited much that is of 
interest in relation to the founders of New England. The 
only thing that has seemed worth reproducing is the wicked 
portrait of Rev. Hugh Peters (p. 127), with the windmill 
buzzing in his head, while an imp is prompting him to words 
of blasphemy. 

On the other hand, the first two generations of New Eng- 
land were characterized by a superabundance of literature, 
such as it was, chiefly relating to questions of theology or of 
ecclesiastical and civil polity. Nobody can understand the 
seventeenth century without reading so many of these books 
as to become thoroughly familiar with their turns of thought 
and expression, and it has seemed to me that even their 
(juaint title-pages must be fraught with suggestiveness to the 
general reader. I have therefore given photographic repro- 
ductions of several such titles. 

Quite a good clue to the social condition of a people is 
furnished by their domestic architecture. Accordingly, 
though the text of my narrative has little to do with that 



PREFACE ix 

subject, I have given several views of seventeenth century 
dwelling-houses, of which all are still standing (except the 
Bridgham house, p. 177, which was pulled down in 1873), 
and all have been photographed. Of public buildings in 
Boston long since vanished, the original King's Chapel of 
1689 has left its likeness in an old print made while it was 
still standing; that of the original Town-House of 1658 has 
been most ingeniously restored for us from sound contem- 
porary data ; while of the original Old South Meeting-House 
of 1669, in which it was voted not to surrender the charter, 
apparently no sketch or simulacrum exists. Especially in- 
teresting as a specimen of the ver)^ oldest public buildings, 
erected in the wilderness, is the Salem church of 1633 
(p. 125) ; the contrast between it and the lordly St. Botolph's 
(p. 115) is an impressive index to the change of environ- 
ment which the exodus from merry England immediately 
entailed. 

For aid and advice I have especially to thank Mr. Wil- 
berforce Eames, of the Lenox Library in New York ; Mr. 
William E. Foster, of the Public Library of Providence ; Dr. 
Richard Garnett, of the British Museum ; and Mr. (j. W. B. 
Nicholson, of the Bodleian Library at Oxford. To many 
ladies and gentlemen who have kindly assisted me I have 
made specific acknowledgments in my annotated list of 
illustrations. 

The text of this edition has been carefully revised, and in 
some places important additions or changes have been made. 

Cambridge, OctolHjr 21, 1898. 



PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 



This book contains the substance of the lectures origi- 
nally given at the Washington University, St. Louis, in May, 
1887, in the course of my annual visit to that institution as 
University Professor of American History. The lectures 
were repeated in the following month of June at Portland, 
Oregon, and since then either the whole course, or one or 
more of the lectures, have been given in l^ston, Newton, 
Milton, Chelsea, New Bedford, Lowell, Worcester, Spring- 
field, and Pittsfield, Mass. ; l^irmington, Middletown, and 
Stamford, Conn. ; New York, Brooklyn, and Tarrytown, 
N. Y. ; Philadelphia and Ogontz, Pa. ; Wilmmgton, Del. ; 
Chicago, 111. ; San Francisco and Oakland, Cal. 

In this sketch of the circumstances which attended the 
settlement of New luigland, I have jnirposely omitted many 
details which in a formal history of that period would need 
to be included. It has been my aim to give the outline 
of such a narrative as to indicate the principles at work in 
the history of New luigland down to the Revolution of 
1689. When I was writing the lectures I had just been 
reading, with much interest, the work of my former pupil, 
Mr. Brooks Adams, entitled "The Emancipation of Massa- 
chusetts." With the specific conclusions set forth in that 
book I found myself often agreeing, but it seemed to me 
that the general aspect of the case would be considerably 
modified and perhaps somewhat more adequately presented 
by enlarging the field of view. In forming historical judg- 



»H Fktf ACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 

mcnt.^ 31 j;rcal deal dq>cnds upon our perspective. Out of 
fhc v«*ry im|Mrrfect human nature which is so slowly and 
|if»in(utty iUfiiiiUii ''^^ ^^*^ original sin of its inheritance from 
firimcv;il nava^^'rry, it in scarcely p^^ssible in any age to get 
a result whi* h will hrffk quite satisfactory to the men of a 
rlf«r arid rf»or<r enli^jhtlencd ;j;^c. Fortunately we can learn 
mnttfihitin ffftn the ntumblings of our forefathers, and a 
HfitH\ tmtty Ihjfi;^* wrcrn quite clear to us to-day which two 
i:i*tlf firlrci f»^o wfttv only (K-;(innin;( to be dimly discerned by 
ft f<t*w ol Um' k*rfrfiej»t and Jj'/ldest spirits. The faults of the 
Vuflifth iUf*tt( tiuy, whirh found its most complete develop- 
lUVM Ui M;iiiii«M fiijvrfti>, arc Vi ;;Iaring that it is idle to seek 
|0 |MlllU('* thrttt or to explain them away. But if we would 
f-frtlly ^wU^tat'AUil what was going on in the Puritan world 
ftf llu« «»#*vrhf''r'fiih / etitury, and how a better state of things 
linn f^ittwit out of it, we must endeavour to distinguish and 
llMfllM* Ihr' rU-titriiiii of wholes^>me strength in that theo- 
I'lrtf'V tio l<'i)i» fli'iri iti) elements of crudity and weakness. 

Tll»* n»*>> ' \t:i\A*'i, on "The Roman Idea and the English 
IllMrt/' 'ontaji«>. a v/mewhat more developed statement of 
lIlM jM^inli) l/n<'fiy indifaterl in the thirteenth section (pp. 
Ill ij^; nt " I h«- l^'>»iinyof Man." As all of the present 
IHMiki *'fc<''pt th'- filial chapter, was written here under the 
Nhftftow ol f)i<' Washington University, I take pleasure in 
itMilMti ii iinin this (harming and hospitable city where I 
hwVM \htiii:*'i >.orn<- of the most delightful hours of my life. 




CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I 

THE ROMAN IDKA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 

PAGB 

When did the Roman Empire come to an end ? . . . .1.2 

Meaning of Odovakar's work 2, 3 

The Holy Roman Empire 3, 4 

Gradual shifting of primacy from the men who spoke Latin, and 

their descendants, to the men who speak English . . . 5-7 
Political history is the history of nation-making . . . . 7, 8 
The Oriental method of nation-making; conquest iciihout in- 
corporation .......... 8 

Illustrations from eastern despotisms 8 

And from the Moors in Spain 9 

The Roman method of nation-making ; conquest ivith incorpora- 

tion^ but without representation 10, 11 

Its slow development . . .11 

Vices in the Roman system . . . . . . . 11. 12 

Its fundamental defect 12 

It knew nothing of political power delegated by the people to re- 
presentatives . . . . . . . . '13 

And therefore the expansion of its dominion ended in a centralized 
despotism . . . . . . . . . . '13 

Which entailed the danger that human life might come to stagnate 
in Europe, as it had done in .Asia . . . . . '14 

The danger was warded off by the (iermanic invasions, which, 
however, threatened to undo the work which the Empire had 
done in organizing European society . . . . . • '4 

But sucli disintegration was prevented by the sway which the Ro- 
man church had come to exercise over the European mind . 15 

The wonderful thirteenth centurv i^ 

The English method of nation-making; incorporation icith repre- 
sentation ........... 17 

Pacific tendencies of federalism . . . . . . . iS 

Failure of (Ireek attempts at federation ..... i(> 




xiv CONTENTS 

Fallacy of the notion that republics must be small . . . ^9 

" It is not the business of a government to support its people, but 

of the people to support their government " .... 20 

Teutonic March-meetings and representative assemblies . 21 

Peculiarity of the Teutonic conquest of Britain . . . 21, 22 
Survival and development of the Teutonic representative assembly 

in England 23 

Primitive Teutonic institutions less modified in England than in 

Germany 23, 24 

Some effects of the Norman conquest of England . . . -25 
The Barons' War and the first House of Commons ... 26 

Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty 26 

Conflict between Roman Idea and English Idea begins to become 

clearly visible in the thirteenth century 27 

Decline of mediaeval Empire and Church with the growth of mod- 
em nationalities 28 

Overthrow of feudalism, and increasing power of the crown . 29 

Formidable strength of the Roman Idea 30 

Had it not been for the Puritans, political liberty would probably 

have disappeared from the world 30 

Beginnings of Protestantism in the thirteenth century . . 32 
The Cathari, or Puritans of the Eastern Empire . . . -32 

The Albigenses . 33 

Effects of persecution ; its feebleness in England . . . .34 

Wyclif and the Lollards 35 

Political character of Henry VIIL's revolt against Rome . 36, 37 

The yeoman Hugh Latimer 38 

The moment of CromwelFs triumph was the most critical moment 

in history' 39 

Contrast with France ; fate of the Huguenots .... 39-41 

Victory of the English Idea 41? 42 

Significance of the Puritan Exodus 43 



CHAPTER II 

THE PURITAN KXODUS 

Influence of Puritanism upon modern Europe .... 44-46 

Work of the Lollards 46 

They made the Bible the first truly popular literature in Eng- 

The English version of the Bible 49 

Secret of Henry VII I. 's swift success in his revolt against Rome . 50 
Effects of the persecution under Mary 51 



CONTENTS XV 

Calvin's theology in its political bearings 52-54 

Elizabeth's policy and its effects 54-56 

Puritan sea-rovers 56 

Geographical distribution of Puritanism in England; it was strong- 
est in the eastern counties 57 

Preponderance of East Anglia in the Puritan exodus . . 57 
Familiar features of East Anglia to the visitor from New Eng- 
land 58 

Puritanism was not intentionally allied with liberalism . . 59, 60 

Robert Browne and the Separatists 61 

Persecution of the Separatists 61, 62 

Recantation of Browne : it was reserved for William Brewster to 

take the lead in the Puritan exodus 63 

James Stuart, and his encounter with Andrew Melville . . 64 

What James intended to do when he became King of England . 65 
His view of the political situation, as declared in the conference at 

Hampton Court 65-67 

The congregation of Separatists at Scrouby . . . . 67, 68 
The flight to Holland, and settlement at Leyden in 1609 . . 68 

Systematic legal toleration in Holland 69 

Why the Pilgrims did not stay there : they wished to keep up their 

distinct organization and found a state 70 

And to do this they must cross the ocean, because European terri- 
tory was all preoccupied 70 

The London and riymouth companies . . . 71-73 

First explorations of the New England coast: Bartholomew Gos- 

nold (1 6o2), and (ieorge Weymouth (1605) 73 

The Popham colony (1607) 74 

Captain John Smith gives to New England its name (1614) . . 74 
The Pilgrims at Leyden decide to make a settlement near the Del- 
aware river . . . ' . . . . . . '78 

How King James regarded the enterprise ..... 80 

Voyage of the Mayflower ; .she goes astray and takes the Pilgrims 

to Cape Cod bay . 81 

Founding of the Plymouth colony (1620) 82,83 

Why the Indians did not molest the settlers .... 84-88 
The chief interest of this beginning of the Puritan exodus lies not 
so much in what it achieved as in what it suggested . . 88-90 



xvi CONTENTS 

CHAPTER III 

THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 

Sir Ferdinaiido Oorges and the Council for New England . ^r. yz 

Wessajfusset and Merry mount '}:- '/* 

The l)i»rehester adventurers ./;. ,- 

John White wishes to " raise a bulwark against the Kinjjdoni oi 

Antichrist" v 

And John Endiiott undertakes the work of building it . >? 

ConHietinjc grants si>w seeds of trouble; the Corges and Mas-ir. 
elaims . . . . . . . . . . . ::: 

tndleott's arrival in New England, and the founding of Salcm . r:: 
The ^.'ompmy oJ Massachusetts IJay; Francis Higginson Uicr> 
a |H»x^eriul U'infiH'crment to Salem . . . . . . izz 

The doveU»pment nf John White's enterprise into the Comi-any .::' 
MiiHsar linnet Is li.iy coincided with the tirst four years of :hr 
ivicn ol t h.iiles I. . . . . . . . 133. 1:4 

|o\tiaotdinan snnc in lh<« House of Commons (June 5. 162S1 \z-^-\'yj 
\\w kini; tntns r.iili.imrnt t>ul of doors (March 2, 1629) . . j:- 

lV'*\»*'t'»tc n.Uuic ol Hum risis ...... icr. loS 

\\\y mtTtiui; at I .imbiiil^iMAuj;. i(\ i(>2<)V and decision to t rank- 
le* fhr s \\A\W\ ol ihr Mass.K husi'tts Hay Company, and the guv- 
vn\mt III « Ml.ilillJird iiiuhr il. U» Nrw England .... iz»S 

^ i-.\\\» M ol iln- I'll It iiilnfalioM ; John Winihrop . . . lo^J 

\ml I lioni.i'i Ihnlli \ . . . . . . \ort 

|\\\u\dlti*> ol M.r-'i.n linsrMs : ilu' schemes of Gorges ovtrr- 
^\hrliniil . . . . . . . .110 

tWtihiiilni' • III \iii< lii iin 1 oic^titutional history: the question zls to 
MvH |.in • I (IMP i<i i.ii 'I <l .11 VV .il( ilo\\n . . . . . III. ]I2 

^nm I III 1'^* ' ^ -Il Ml I M(:il)lisli« il . . . .112 

\\\\ om I d • • Mil I1 loi » of !hr stra\ pig .... 1 12-1 14 

\\\\\i y\\ 11* •! jKilit^ till hiiimph ot Srpar.itism . . 115. 1 10 
^1 .nil tii.n '.I »!»■ uMi.itM (o nx mlHi's ol the I*uriian congre«^a- 
^(iiimI>I'»»»'I"- . . . . . .llfj. 117 

^\iuiiili»i-. . I M .1 ' •»<! « •illi !:« . . 1 1 >-i2: 

^ |\ti I I- II ■' • ■'■• ' ••- *Im \« \% lii;;l.ini! s» Ilh'i>. in H»3(»: — 

\ I 1... . •• • I ^^Ii«) |.i*ji.*r«N ti» .itt.ick thi- iliartcr. h\.\\ is 

!• it- ■! I < -I' ••iiii,ii'« :il jininr ..... I2:>-122 

, \ = • . .. i. ••••. I.-*.!!!!"* . K 1 1:^1 1 Wilh.im.s . 122- I2f • 

II ■■ * . . ...I \ I |iii« liitisiin .... 12f•-I2^ 

!• . ■ . t \ . .« \\.,\y [jnIiiii .111,1 KIjimIi- I>l;inil . 12. » 

^ I I- . . I .■ ., s :', r* <|..<,i SI. j,i( jii;n V . . \yz.. i " I 

^ I) t ., • ■ ' i • < • r .,< 4 t ;i 1,1 ( .till \ .iiiil ilispiiti-s w itli tht.- 

^ \iin I •••■•■■■• N •"■ \ r.-Nii III ;i III . . . . I ",2 




CONTENTS xvii 

Restriction of the suffrage leads to disaffection in Massachusetts; 

profoundly interesting opinions of Winthrop and Hooker 133, 134 

Connecticut pioneers and their hardships 135 

Thomas Hooker, and the founding of Connecticut . .135, 136 

William Pynchon at Springfield 136 

The Fundamental Orders of Connecticut (Jan. 14, 1639); the first 

written constitution that created a government . . . .136 
Relations of Connecticut to the genesis of the Federal Union 137-140 
Origin of the Pequot War; Sassacus tries to unite the Indian tribes 

in a crusade against the English 140, 141 

The schemes of Sassacus are foiled by Roger Williams . .142 

The Pequots take the war-path alone .... 142, 143 

And are exterminated 144 

John Davenport, and the founding of New Haven . . 145, 146 
New Haven legislation, and legend of the '* Blue Laws " . . 148 
With the meeting of the Long I\irliament, in 1640, the Puritan 

exodus comes to its end .148 

What might have been 149-152 

CHAPTER IV 

THK NEW KNGLANI) C ONFF.DKKACV 

The Puritan exodus was purely and exclusively English . -153 

And the settlers were all thrifty and prosperous; chiefiy country 

squires and yeomanry- of the best and sturdiest type . . 154, 155 
In all history there has been no other instance of colonization so 

exclusively effected by picked and chosen men . . . .156 
What, then, was the principle of selection ? The migration was 
not intended to promote what we call religious liberty . 159, 160 

Theocratic ideal of the Puritans 160 

The impulse which sought to realize itself in the Puritan ideal was 

an ethical impulse 161, 162 

In interpreting .Scriptures, the Puritan appealed to his reason 162-164 
Value of such perpetual theological discussion as was carried on 

in early New England 164-166 

Comparison with the history of Scotland 166 

Bearing of these considerations upon the history of the New Eng- 
land confederacy 167 

The existence of so many colonies (Plymouth, Massachusetts, Con- 
necticut, New Haven, Rhode Island, the Piscataqua towns, etc.) 
was due to differences of opinion on questions in which men's 

religious ideas were involved 167, 168 

And this multiplication of colonies led to a notable and significant 
attempt at confederati(m i6S, \6g 




xviii CONTENTS 

Turbulence of dissent in Rhode Island 170 

The Earl of Warwick and his Board of Commissioners . . 171 

Constitution of the Confederacy 171 

It was only a league, not a federal union 173 

Its formation involved a tacit assumption of sovereignty . 173, 174 
The fall of Charles I. brought up, for a moment, the question as 
to the supremacy of Parliament over the colonies . . 174, 175 

Some interesting questions 176 

Genesis of the persecuting spirit 176 

Samuel Gorton and his opinions . ... . . . 177-179 

He flees to Aquedneck and is banished thence .... 180 

Providence protests against him 181 

He flees to Shawomet, where he buys land of the Indians . 182 

Miantonomo and Uncas 183, 184 

Death of Miantonomo 185 

Edward Johnson leads an expedition against Shawomet . . 186 

Trial and sentence of the heretics 186 

Winthrop declares himself in a prophetic opinion . . . 187 

The Presbyterian cabal 1 88-1 91 

The Cambridge Platform 192 

Dr. John Clarke 194 

The edict against Baptists 195 

Rev. Obadiah Holmes 195, 196 

Arrest of the Baptists at Swampscott 197 

Trial of the Baptists, and unseemly demeanour of Rev. John Wilson 198 

Dr. Clarke's unavailing challenge 199 

Brutal treatment of Holmes 199 

Rebukes from Roger Williams and Sir Richard Saltonstall . . 200 
Deaths of Winthrop and Cotton ; their views as to toleration in 

matters of religion 202 

After their death, the leadership in Massachusetts was in the hands 

of Endicott and Norton . . 202 

The Quakers; their opinions and behaviour . . . 205,206 

Violent manifestations of dissent 207 

Anne Austin and Mary Fisher; how they were received in Boston 208 
The confederated colonies seek to expel the Quakers; noble atti- 
tude of Rhode Island 211 

Roger Williams appeals to his friend. Oliver Cromwell . . 212 

The "heavenly speech " of Sir Harry Vane 212 

Laws passed against the Quakers 213 

How the death penalty was regarded at that time in New England 213 
Executions of Quakers on Boston Common . . . . 214, 215 
Wenlock Christison's defiance and victory . . . 215,216 
His alleged ** recantation " 217 



CONTENTS xix 

The "King's Missive" 218 

Why Charles II. interfered to protect the Quakers . . .219 
His hostile feeling toward the New England governments. . 219 

The regicide judges, Goffe and Whalley 221, 222 

New Haven annexed to Connecticut 223, 224 

Abraham Pierson, and the founding of Newark .... 225 

Breaking-down of the theocratic policy 225 

Weakening of the Confederacy 226 

CHAPTER V 

KING PHILIP'S WAR 

Relations between the Puritan settlers and the Indians . . . 227 

Trade with the Indians 228 

Missionary work ; Thomas Mayliew 228 

John Eliot and his translation of the Hible 229 

His preaching to the Indians 230 

His villages of Christian Indians 233 

The Puritan's intention was to deal gently and honourably with the 

red men 234 

Why Pennsylvania was so long unmolested by the Indians 234, 235 
Difficulty of the situation in New Eni^land ..... 236 
It is hard for the savage and the civilized man to understand one 

another ............ 236 

How Eliot's designs must inevitably have been misinterpreted by 

the Indians 237 

It is remarkable that peace should have been so long preserved 238 
Deaths of Massasoit and his son Alexander ...... 240 

Very little is known about the nature of Philip's designs . . 240 

The meeting at Taunton 241 

Sausamon informs against Philip 242 

And is murdered 242 

Massacres at Swanzey and Dartmouth 242 

Murder of Captain I lutchin.son 243 

Attack on Hrookfield, which is relieved by Simon Willard 243, 244 

Fighting in the Connecticut valley; the mysterious stranger at 

Hadley 244, 245 

Ambuscade at Bloody Brook 246. 247 

Popular excitement in Boston 24S 

The Narragansetts prepare to take the war-path . . . 248, 249 
And Governor Winslow leads an army against them . . 250 

Storming of the great swamp fortress 252 

Slaughter of the Indians ....... 253 



XX CONTENTS 

Effect of the blow 254 

(trowth of the humane sentiment in recent times, due to the fact 
that the horrors of war are seldom brought home to everybody's 

door 255, 256 

Warfare with savages is likely to be truculent in character . 256 

Attack upon Lancaster 257 

Mrs. RowlandiSon*s narrative 258-261 

Virtual extermination of the Indians (^Febniar)' to August. 1676) . 262 

Death of Canonchet 263 

Philip pursued by Captain Church 263 

Death of Philip 2O4 

Indians sold into slavery '. 265 

Conduct of the Christian Indians 266 

War with the Tarratincs 26S 

Frightful destruction of life and property 268 

Henceforth the red man figures no more in the historj- of New Eng- 
land, except in frontier raids under French guidance . . . 269 

CHAPTER VI 

THK TYRANNY OF ANDROS 

Romantic features in the early history of New England . . . 270 
Captain Edward Johnson, of Woburn, and his book on »' The Won- 
der-working Providence of Zion's Saviour in New England " 271, 272 
Acts of the Puritans often judged by an unreal and impossible 

standard 273 

spirit of the '* Wonder-work in«; Providence '*.... 27^ 

i'rits and faults of the Puritan theocracv 27a 

Kestriction of the sutfraire to church members .... 27; 

• I was a source of political discontent 276 

"n*|uisitorial administration of justice 277 

Tlir -Halfway Covenant'* 27S 

l**«»uii<liiiir „f tjjy Old .South Church 279 

^ 'itricMidJy relations between Charles II. and Massachusetts 2S0, 2S1 

^^ *Hn|>l.ii,nj. against Massachusetts . 2S1 

\^^\ lords of Trade 2S2 

' *"v.dnf Edwanl Randolph in Poston 2S4 

. ••s«-pi| I )u(i|i.y ;|,^j1 ti^^. i^^.jrii^ninjrsjof Torvism in New Kni^land 2S;, 2S6 
•*'"'?* 1 1. ert( ts the four Piscata(|ua towns into the royal province 

*»• Ntw Hampshire 2S7 

*p»-n Ti'ls with M.issachusetts over the settlement of the dorges 

^^/ '.liiii to the Maine <listrict ^.288 

**>ii llradstreet and his verse-making wife .... 288-2tx> 



CONTENTS xxi 

Massachusetts answers the king's peremptory message . 290 

Secret treaty between Charles II. and Louis XIV. . . . 292 

Shameful proceedings in England 293 

Massachusetts refuses to surrender her charter ; and accordingly it 
is annulled by decree of chancery, June 21, 1684 . . . 294, 295 

Effect of annulling the charter 296 

Death of Charles II., accession of James II., and appointment of 
Sir Edmund Andros as viceroy over New England with de- 
spotic powers 297, 298 

The charter oak 299 

Episcopal services in Boston 299, 300 

Founding of the King's Cliapel 301 

The tyranny 301 

John Wise of Ipswich 302 

Fall of James II 303 

Insurrection in Boston, and overthrow of Andros . . . 304 

Effects of the Revolution of 1689 306 

Need for union among all the northern colonies .... 307 
Plymouth, Maine, and Acadia annexed to Massachusetts . . 308 

Which becomes a royal province 309 

And is thus brought into political sympathy with Virginia . . 309 
The seeds of the American Revolution were already sown, and the 
spirit of 1776 was foreshadowed in 1689 .... 310,311 

Bibliographical Notk 312 

Index 319 



NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS 



John Winthrop {Photogravure) Frontispiece 

From the original portrait by Van Dyck, in the Massachusetts State 
House. Autograph from the Memorial History of Boston. 

Page 

New England in the Seventeenth Century {coloured map) 

facing I 
In making this map I have sought to indicate by colours the divisions 
between the old colonies on the coast-line. To carry the colour-Uistinc- 
tion into the interior would be hardly practicable because there was too much 
uncertainty and fluctuation in the boundaries. The islands of Martha's Vine- 
yard and Nantucket are left uncoloured^ to remind us that they were part of 
the proprietary domain of James Stuart, Duke of York, afterward King 
James II., who sold them to Massachusetts in 1O86. The name '' Duke's," 
for the county of Martha's Vineyard, is a memento of this old proprietor- 
ship. 

Coin of Romulus Augustulus i 

From Cohen, Afonnaies dc V Etnf>ire Romain, tom. vi. 

Count Rumford 5 

After the copy in oils by \V. Page from Kellerhoven ; restored in 1895 by 
H. R. Burdick, and now in the Faculty Room, I'niversity Hall, Harvard 
University. Autograph from a MS. in the Boston Athenaeum. 

Oliver Cromwell {photogravure) facing 8 

From a miniature by Samuel Cooper, now owned by the Duke of Buc- 
cleuch. Autograph from the MS. collection of Hon. Mellen Chamberlain. 

Alfred the (^reat 15 

From Annates rerum ^estarum Alfredi Afac^ni, by .Asserius Menevensis, 
edited by Francis Wise, Oxford, 1722. Under the engraving there given we 
read, " Alfredus Magnus, ex antiquissima tabella in (cdibus magistri coll. 
Univ. Oxon. Vertue Sculp," 

Edward 1 17 

From Clifford's Lt/e and Reign of Edward the First, London, 1S72, after 
the engraving by Cieorge Vertue from the statue at Carnarvon Castle. 

Seal of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester . ... 25 

From English History by Contemporary Writers, " Simon de Montfort 
and his Cause." 

Philip II. of Spain 31 

From an old print ("Jeronimus sc") in the Gardiner Greene Hubbard 



xxiv NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS 

collection in the Library of Congress. Autograph from the Dreer Collection 
in the rooms of the Pennsylvania Historical Society. 

John Wyclif 35 

From South Kensington National Portraits^ vol. vi., where the original 
source is not given. 

Henry VIII 37 

After an engraving by Houbraken (from an original painting by Holbein), 
in the Gardiner Greene Hubbard collection in the Library of Congress. Au- 
tograph from his Coronation Oath, 1858, in the Autographic Mirror ^ Bos- 
ton Athenxum. 

Hugh Latimer {photogravure) facing 38 

From the portrait in the National Gallery, Trafalgar Square, London, 
painted in 1555 by some artist unknown. 

Henry IV. of France 40 

From an etching by E. Boilvin, in Dussieu, Lettres intimes de Henri IV. 
Autograph from Winsor's America. 

John Milton 42 

After an original portrait drawn and engraved by William Faithomc in 
1670. Autograph from Mitford's edition of the Poetical Works. 

John Hampden 44 

After an engraving by Houbraken (from a painting by an artist whose 
name is not given), in the Gardiner Greene Hubbard collection in the Library 
of Congress. .Autograph from Nugent^ s Memorials of Hampden^ London, 
1865. 

John Pym 45 

From an engraving by Houbraken, in Birch's Heads of Illustrious Persons 
of Great Britain. Autograph from Thane's British Autography. 

Facsimile Title-Page of King James's Bible 47 

Photographed from an original in the Lenox Library. 
Joh.n Calvin {photogravure) f^^^'',i( 50 

From an engraving by VVoolnoth, said to have been made from an ori- 
ginal painting by Holbein. Autograph from a MS. in the Lenox Library. 

Queen Elizabeth 53 

From Holl's engraving of an original portrait in Queen Victoria's collec- 
tion in St. James's Palace. Autograph from Winsor's America. 

Sir Francis Drake 55 

From an old print in the Gardiner Greene Hubbard collection in the Li- 
brary of Congress. Autograph from Thane's British Autography. 

Map showing the Positions of Scrooby and Austekfield 59 

From Winsor's America. 

Richard Hooker 60 

From Prince's IVotthies of Dez>on, London, 1810. 

Autograph of Robert Browne Oi 

From Winsor's America. 



NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS xxv 

William Cecil, Lord Burghley 62 

From Freeman's engraving of the original portrait by Marc Gheeraerts, 
in the possession of the Marquis of Exeter. Autograph from the MS. col- 
lection of Hon. Mellen Chamberlain. 

Autograph of William Brewster 63 

From the Record Office at Plymouth. 

AUSTERFIELD CHURCH 64 

After a photograph owned by the late Dr. Charles Deane. 

James 1 66 

After Thomas Woolnoth's engraving of the original portrait by Paul 
V^ansomer. Autograph from Winsor's America. 

The Manor House at Scroohy, William Brewster's Resi- 
dence 67 

From a photograph (kindly lent by James T. Sands, Esq. of St. Louis, 
Missouri) of a drawing by A. M. Raine. The manor-house, originally built 
as a hunting-seat for the archbishops of York, was in Brewster's time falling 
into decay. 

Autograph of John Robinson 68 

From D:xtcr's Congregationaltsm as seen in its Literature, New York, 
1880, copied from a book in the Hritish Museum, ''believed by the experts 
of that institution to have belonged to" Robinson. This belief is confirmed 
by the fact that the same name, unquestionably by the same hand, is written 
upon the title-page of a copy of Sir Edwin Sandys's Kclation of the State of 
Religion, London, 1605, belonging to the late Dr. Charles Deane, of Cam- 
bridge, Mass. There are strong reasons for believing that this volume once 
belonged to the John Robinson of the I'uritan exodus. See Winsor's 
America, iii. 259. 

Facsimile of the First Page of Bradford's Manuscript 
History 68, 69 

This precious manuscript, T/tc History of the Plimoth Plantation, has 
had a most romantic career. On the death of (iovernor Bradford, in 1657, 
the MS. passed to his son, Major William Bradford (see below, p. 252), and 
on his death, in 1704, it descended to his son. Major John Bradford, of 
Kingston, from whom it passed into the hands of the learned antiquary, 
Rev. Thomas Prince, of Boston, pastor of the Old South. Mr. Prince used 
a room in the tower of the Old South Meeting House for his valuable li- 
brary, which he bequeathed to the church in 1758. After the British troops 
evacuated Boston in March, 1776, the Bradford MS. was missing from the 
old church tower, and it was many years before any clue to its whereabouts 
was found. 

Happily the means for identifying it, if it should ever turn up, were abun- 
dant and conclusive. Extracts from it had been cited by Cotton Mather, in 
his Magnalia (1702), by Thomas Prince, in his Annals (1736), and by 
Thomas Hutchinson, in the second volume of his History of Afassachusetts 
Bay (1767). Moreover Bradford's nephew, Nathaniel Morton, had pub- 
lished, in 1660, his AVtf England'' s Memorial (see below, p. 232), large 
portions of which were confessedly taken from the Bradford MS. 

Now in 1844 Dr. Samuel Wilberforce, Bishop of Oxford (familiarly known 



xxvi NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS 

to his contemporaries as " Soapy Sam "), published a History of the Protest- 
ant Episcopal Church in America^ in which he quoted sundry passages 
from a " MS. History of the Plantation of Plymouth," in the library of the 
Bishop of London's Palace at Fulham. Eleven years afterward/ in 1855, 
while Rev. John Barry was writing the first volume of his History of Mas- 
sachusetts^ his attention was called by Mr. John Wingate Thornton, of Bos- 
ton, to the Bishop of Oxford's book. This led to the investigation of the 
matter by Dr. Charles Deane, who soon discovered that the mysterious 
treasure in the palace at Fulham was the long lost MS. of Governor Brad- 
ford, and that it was completely preserved. An accurate copy was sent over 
from London and edited by Dr. Deanc, who published it in 1856. Forty 
years later, in 1896, a facsimile of the entire MS. was published in London 
under the editorship of Mr. John Doyle, and a limited edition of this superb 
quarto volume was put on sale in Boston by Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin 
& Co. 

How the original document found its way from the steeple of the Old 
South Meeting-House into the library of Fulham Palace will perhaps never 
be known. There it remained until soon after the publication of the com- 
plete facsimile, when, as the result of conferences between Dr. Mandell 
Creighton, Bishop of London, himself eminent as a historian, and the late 
Thomas Francis Bayard, ambassador from the United States, it was decided 
that this noble document ought to be restored to Massachusetts. This was 
very courteously done by the British government in 1897, and so the manu- 
script which is not only the corner-stone of New England history but the 
one masterpiece of literature produced on American soil before the eigh- 
teenth century, now reposes in the State House on Beacon Hill. 

Plan of Leyde.n 69 

From Bartlett's Pilgrim Fathers. 

Facslmile Title-Page of Brereton's Briefe and True 
Relation 71 

Photographed from an original in the Lenox Library. This book, pub- 
lished in 1602, gives an account of the voyage of Bartholomew Gosnold, and 
is the earliest book in English relating to New England. 

Facslmile Title-Page of Rosier'.s True Relation ... 72 

Photographed from an original in the Lenox Library-. This book, pub- 
lished in 1605, gives an account of the voyage of George Weymouth, and is 
the second book in English relating to New England. 

Sir John Popha.m 75 

From National Historical Portraits, where no information is given as to 
the source. Autograph from the MS. collection of Hon. Mellen Chamberlain. 

Captain John Smith 77 

After the engraved portrait by .*^imon Van Passe, in the upper left-hand 
comer of Smith's Map of New England, published in 1616, when tlie gal- 
lant captain was in his thirty -eighth year. The autograph is from a M.S. 
letter of Smith's to Lord Bacon (161S}, preserved in the Public Record Office, 
in London. 

Facsimile Title-Page of Smith's Description of New- 
England 79 

Photographed from an original in the Lenox Library. It is in this book 



NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS xxvii 

that the name '' New England " first occurs, being substituted by Captain 
Smith for *' North Virginia." 

Sir Edwin Sandys 8i 

From the frontispiece to Alexander Brown's The First Republic in 
America^ Boston, 1898, after an original portrait by G. Powlc. Autograph 
from Alexander Brown's Genesis of the United States^ Boston, 1890. 

Smith's Map of New England, 1616 82, 83 

From the reduced heliotype in VVinsor's America^ iii. 198. For the inter- 
esting variations in ten different impressions of this map, see Memorial His- 
tory of Boston^ i. 52 ; Arber's edition of Smith's W'orks^ p. cxxxiv. 

A Ship of the Seventeenth Century 83 

Facsimile of a cut in Dudley's Arcano del Mare, 1647. 

Map of Plymouth Harbour 84 

Reduced from the map in Dexter's edition of Mourfs Relation. 

Autographs of Mayflower Pilgrlms 85 

That of John Alden is from the MS. collection of Hon. Mellen Chamber- 
lain. The others are from W'insor's America. 

Edward Winslow ?i^ 

From a photograph of the original portrait (artist's name unknown), now 
in the galler>' of the Pilgrim Society at Plymouth. It was painted while 
Winslow was in England in 1651 (see below, p. 191), and is the only well- 
authenticated portrait of any of the Mayflower Pilgrims; for some doubt 
rests upon that of Miles Standish, given below, on page 97. The autograph 
is from Winsor's America. 

Pilgrim Relics 89 

Governor Bradford's chair is from a photograph of the chair, now owned by 
William Hedge, Esq., of Plymouth. The rest arc from Winsor's America. 

Departure of the Pilgrims from Dklfthaven {photogra- 
vure) y?zr/>/^^ 90 

From an old Dutch painting in the possession of George Henry Boughton, 
by permission of S. P. Avery, Jr., of New York. 

The title " Departure of the Pilgrims from Delfthaven " is upon the back 
of the worm-eaten frame. In a recent letter Mr. Boughton writes: "Excel- 
lent as the photograph is, it gives but a slight notion of the charming colour 
and marvellous detail of tlic original. ... I have learned nothing regarding 
the artist, or rather artists, as I am certain that the figures are not by the 
painter of the ships. But from studying the works of the painters of the time 
who cottld have accomplished such a work, I am almost certain that the Cuyps, 
father and son, did it between them." Mr. Boughton had an article in 
Harper s Weekly, March 9, 1895, regarding this picture. 

Autograph of Sir Ferdinando Gorgf:s 91 

From Winsor's America. 

" Thomas Morton's New Exg- 
Facsimile Title-Pages OF J ^'^''" ^'^'•'^'t.'''' ' ' .* "x.' * ^^ 

F R a NCTS H I GGI N SON S Ne W 

England's Plantation . . 94 

Photograi)hed from originals in the Lenox Library. 



i 



xxviii NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS 
Autograph of Thomas Morton 95 

From the Memorial History of Boston. 

Autograph of William Blackstone 96 

From Winsor's America. 

Milp:s Standish 97 

From a portrait, not sufficiently authenticated, now in the possession of 
Mrs. A. M. Harrison, of Plymouth. It may be a genuine likeness, and until 
positively disproved it cannot fail to have a certain kind of interest. I have 
therefore concluded to give it, along with this word of caution. Such a course 
is, at least, far more defensible than that uf the government of Harvard Uni- 
versity (whose motto is Veritas !) when it sets up in front of its Memorial 
Hall a statue of John Harvard which is purely a figment of the artist's imagi- 
nation. 

The autograph is from Winsor's America. It will be noticed that the fore- 
name is written MyUs. So we have Edwyn Sandys, William Blaxton, Lion 
. Gardiner, John £ndecott, etc. The rule that one should follow the usage of 
the owner of the name cannot be consistently applied to the seventeenth 
centur>', when nobody cared a straw for spelling, and a man would often write 
his own name in three or four different ways in the same document. It is 
best, in these cases, to follow the familiar conventional spelling. 

Facsimilp: of a Letter from Standish tu Bradford . . 99 

Photographed from the MS. in the Lenox Library. 

Facsimile Title-Page of Mourt's Relation or Iournall icx) 

Photographed from an original in the I^nox Library. This book is 
usually so called because the name " G. Mourt '' (probably a pseudonym for 
George Morton) is subscribed to the preface ; but the book seems to have been 
written by Bradford and Winslow. It is a kind of diary, extending from 
September, 1620, to December, 1621, and was continued in Wmslow's Good 
News from New England. 

Charles 1 103 

After a print, from the painting by Van Dyck, in the Gardiner Greene Hub- 
bard' colU»ction in the Library of Congress. Autograph from the MS. col- 
lection of Hon. Mellen Chamberlain. 

Facslmile T<tle-Page of Winslow's Good News from 
New England 105 

This book continues the journal of events at Plymouth from November, 
1621, to September, 1623. 

Facsimile of the Massachusetts Charter of 1629 . 106, 107 

Photographed from the original document in the Massachusetts .State 
House, by the kind permission of Hon. W. M. Olin. Secretary of .State. 

Arrival of Winthrop's Colony in Boston Harhour {pho- 

tOi^rai'urt') fachii^ 108 

From a painting? by \\. V. Halsall, 1S80. by kind pcrmissic)n of the owner. 
Walter Bailey Ellis, Esq., of IJo^ton. The little rieet is just conjiiig to 
anchor, with the flagship in the foreground, a shij) of 3^0 tons and carrying 
23 guns, named the .\rbella, after one of her i)assengers. the Lady .\rbella 
Johnson, daughter of the Earl of Lincoln and wife of Isaac Johnson, a niemlxr 
of the Company. The other ship with sails spread xa the Jewel, and behind 



NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS xxix 

her stern appears Castle Island. The ship with sails furled is the Talbot. All 
are accurate studies of the vessels of the time. 

Autograph of Thomas Dudley 109 

From the Memorial History of Boston. 

Statue ok John Winthrop, Scollay Square, Boston . .111 

From a photograph. The statue is the work of Richard Saltonstall Green- 
ough, and was unveiled in 1S73. 

Facsimile of the Order naming Boston, Sept. 17 (A'. S.), 
1630 113 

From the Colony Records. *' It is ordered that Trimountaine shall be called 
Boston, Mattapan Dorchester, and the towne upon Charles r\ vcr Waterton." 
Boston in Lincolnshire was the home of Rev, John Cotton, and of Lady Ar- 
bella Johnson. 

Autograph of Robert Keayne 114 

From the Memorial History of Boston, 

St. Botolph's Church, Boston, En(;land 115 

From a photograph. 

John Cotton's Vicarage, Boston. England 117 

After an engraving in Whitefield's Homes of our Forefathers, Boston. 18S9. 

View of Harvard College, from the West, in 1726. . .118 

From the oldest known print of Harvard College, engraved in 1726, and 
now in the possession of the Massachusetts Historical >ociety. 

View from the Same Point in 1898 119 

From a photograph. 

John Cotton k photogravure) facing 120 

From a painting owned by his descendant^. Miss Adele G. Thayer, of Brook- 
line, by her kind permission. Autograph from the Memorial History of 
Boston. 

Seal of the Council for New England 121 

From the title-page of Captain John Smith's Generall Historic of Vir- 
ginia^ Nexv Eui>laud^ and the Summer Isles, London. 1624. Dr. VVinsor, 
who reproduces it in his A merit a, iii. 342. suggests the possible alternative 
that it may be the seal of the Council for the Northern Colony of Virginia, 
i. e. the Council under whose direction the abortive Popham settlement was 
made. 

The Tramount, or Summit of Beacon Hill. 1636 .... 122 

From Caleb Snow's History of Boston, 1828. This triple hill, which gave 
to Boston the soubriquet ** Tremont," was once a very conspicuous feature in 
the landscape. During the last hundred years the peaks have all vanished 
and the whole rugged hill has been trimmed down into a gentle slope. On 
the central peak, which was perhaps twice as high as the present site of the 
State House, stood a tall mast with a tar barrel at the top, the flame of which 
could be seen for many miles. This beacon was blown down in a gale in 1789. 

Facsimile Title-Page of Roger Williams's Treatise on 
THE Algonquin Language 123 

Photographed from an original in the Leno.x Library. 




XXX NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS 

Roger Williams's Church in Salem, 1633 125 

From a photograph. This building is still standing, just back of the 
Essex Institute. 

Autograph of Roger Williams 126 

From Winsor's America. 

Caricature of Hugh Peters 127 

From the excessively rare book, Tales and Jests of Mr. Hugh Peters^ 
published by one that hath formerly been conversant with the Author in his 
Lifetime. Printed for S. Z>., London, 1660. 

Autograph of John Wheelwright 127 

From the Memorial History of Boston. 

Facsimile of the Order creating the Hoard of Select- 
men OF Charlestowx 128, 129 

From the heliotype — in Memorial History of Boston^ i. 388 — of what re- 
mains of the original document in the Charlestown Records. 

Autograph of William Coddington 129 

From the Memorial History of Boston. 

Old View of Bosto:c Neck, with Blue Hill in the Dis- 
tance 130 

From an engraving of a sketch made in 1764 by Captain Richard Byron, 
of the British army. The drawing was presented to the Bostonian Society 
by the Earl of Carlisle, through Hon. Edward Lillie Pierce. 

A Dutch Map of the Connpxticut River . . ... . .132 

After the facNimiie of a famous Dutch map of 1666 given in the Lenox 
edition of H. C. Murphy's translation of Vertoogh van Nieu Nederland. 

John Winthrop, the Younger 133 

From a painting (artist not known) in the possession of Robert Charles 
Winthrop, Esq., Boston. Autograph from Winsor's America. 

Autograph of Thomas Hooker 134 

From Winsor's America. 

Statue of Sir Henrv Vane, in the Boston Public Li- 
brary {photogravure) facing 134 

From a photograph. This noble work, by Frederick Macmonnies, stands 
at the left of the main entrance to the building. It is of colossal size. On 
a small tablet before the feet, and just above the large tablet on the pedestal, 
is the inscription : — 

'* But it pleased God to stir them up such friends, viz.. Sir Henry Vane, 
who had sometime lived at Boston and though he might have taken occasion 
against us for some dishonor which he apprehended to have been unjustly 
put upon him here, yet l>oth now and at other times he showed himself a true 
friend of New England, and a man of a noble and generous mind."— Win- 
THRor. 

The large tablet bears the following inscription : — 




NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS xxxi 

SIR HENRY VANE 

GOVERNOR OF THE 
COLONY OF THE MASSACHUSETTS BAY 1636 
BORN 1612 BEHEADED 1662 

AN ARDENT DEFENDER OF CIVIL LIBERTY AND 
ADVOCATE OF FREE THOUGHT IN RELIGION 
HE MAINTAINED THAT GOD, LAW AND PARLIAMENT 
ARE SUPERIOR TO THE KING. 
THIS STATUE WAS PLACED HERE AT THE REQUEST OF 
JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE, D. D., AN HONORED CITIZEN 
OF BOSTON WHO NOBI.Y LABORED FOR THE ABOLITION 
OF SLAVERY IN AMERICA. 

William Pynchon 137 

From the frontispiece to Morris's Early History of Springfield^ 1876, after 
a portrait in the possession of Dr. Joseph Pynchon, of that city. Auto- 
graph from the Memorial History of Boston. 

Wood's Map of New Kn gland, 1634 138, 139 

Photographed from the original in the Lenox Library. 

Autograph of Lvon Gardixkk 141 

From VVinsor's America. 

Sp:al of Harvard College 141 

If you wish to see the source of this woodcut here in our Cambridge, 
dear reader, circumspice ! 

Autograph of John Mason . 142 

From Winsor's America. 

Autograph of John Underhili 143 

From the Memorial History of Boston. 

Plan of the Pequot Fort 144, 145 

The original is a drawing by Captain Underbill himself, engraved in his 
Nrwes from America^ London. 1637. The present illustration is photo- 
graphed from the copy of this book in the Lenox Library. 

The Old Stone House at Guilford 146 

From S. A, Drake's Our Colonial Homes. The house was built in 1639, 
for Rev. Henry Whitfield, one of the founders of Guilford. 

Facsimile Title-Fage of New Haven's Settling . . . .147 

Photographed from an original in the Lenox Library. 

A Chronological Table 150, 151 

Two pages from the 1649 Almanac, printed at Samuel Green's press in 
Cambridge. Photographed from an original in the Lenox Library. 

Autograph of William Stoughton 155 

From VVinsor's America. 

House in Plymouth, England, where the Mayflower Pil- 
grims WERE ENTERTAINED BEFORE SAILING FOR AMERICA 156 

From a recent photograph taken by H. F. VV. Lyouns, Esq., of Boston, 
who was born in old Plymouth. 



xxxii NOTES ON TFIE ILLUSTRATIONS 



Kacsimilk Title-Pages of" 



John Fiske's Watering of the 
Olive- Plant 157 

John Cotton's Spiritual Milk 
FOR Boston Uabes 158 

Photugraphed from originals in the Lenox Library. This John Fiske, 
M. A., Enuuanuel College, Cambridge, was the first of my family who came 
to America (1637). He usually spelled his name with the final c, and its 
occurrence in a truncated form upon his title-page is a good illustration of 
what was said above, on p. xxviii, in the remarks on Standish. 

The Cradock House in Medford, cir. 1634 161 

From a photograph. See ^ncs, Under Colonial Roofs ^ p. no. 

The Minot House in Dorchester, cir. 1633-40 163 

From a photograph. See Memorial History of Boston^ i. 423. 

The Old Meetino-House in Hingham, 1681 165 

From a photograph. This is probably the oldest meeting-house in New 
England that is still in use. ."^ee Commetnorativc Services of the First 
Parish y Ilingham, 1SS2. 

The Fairbanks House in Dedham, cir. 1636 169 

From a photograph. See Jones, Under Colonial Roofs, p. 184, 

Facslmh.e Title-Pa(;e ok the Bay Psalm Book . . . .171 

Photographed from an original in the Lenox Library. 

The Si»EN( EK-PiERCE House in Xewhurv, cir. 1650 . . . .175 

From a photograph. See Jones, Under Colonial Roofs, p, 73. 

Tim-: Bridgha.m Housi: in Dorchester, cir. 1636 177 

l'*rom a photograph, .^eo Memorial History of Boston, i. 4-^5. 

Autograph of Samukl (Iorton 181 

From Winsor's America. 

Miantonomo, his Mark 182 

I'rom the Memorial History of Bo>ton. 

rN( AS AND IMS Squaw, their Marks 184 

I-'iom .tmertcan Historical' and Literary Curiosities, in Boston Athe- 
na'um. 

rGt»RToN*s SimplicitifAs De- 
Facsimile Title-Pages of < fence 189 

[child's New England's Jonas nyo 

Phi>togiaphod fioni originals in the Lenox Library. 

,, ,„ ,, ( The Cambridge Platform . . 103 

tACMMILE I ITLE-Pa(;F.S OF -. ,, . ^, ,, ^^ 

( Pyn( HON s Meritorious Price \<)\ 

Photogr.iphoil from originals in the Lcno.x Library. The nature of the 
hou'sios of Willi.im P\nohon. founder of Springfield, is ap|>arent from the 
>unuu.iry of algumt'nt^ given on hi.s titU'-juge. Some copies of the Ixx^k. 
.vrtiving in Hoston in Ovt»^N*r. io;o, were instantly sei/ed. and. by order of 
the (lener.il iN^irt. were publidv burned next dav by the common hangman. 
Pvuihon uas in various ways so annoyed and badgered that in 1052 he 



NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS xxxiii 

returned to England and spent the rest of his days there in peace. His book 
was answered by Rev. John Norton's Discussion of that Great Point in 
Divinity, the Sufferings of Christ, i^53> ^o which Pynchon published a re- 
joinder in his Covenant of Nature, 1662. 

Dr. John Clarke 196 

From a portrait in the gallery of the Massachusetts Historical Society, 
concerning which there is some doubt as to whether it is the likeness of our 
Rhode Island friend, or of another physician, Dr. John Clarke, of Newbury, 
who died in 1664. See Thacher's -*/;«c-r/<.f/;/ Medical Biography ; Coffin's 
History of Newbury ; Mass. Hist. Soe. Collections, 3d series, vii. 287, and 
Proceedings^ J»Jy> 1844. The shadow of doubt does not extend to the auto- 
graph, which I have taken from the Memorial History of Boston. 

Sir Richaku Saltonstali 201 

From the original portrait, painted by Rembrandt about 1644, when Sir 
Richard was ambassador at the Hague, and now in possession of his descend- 
ant, Richard M. Saltonstali, Esq., of Chestnut Hill, Boston, who has also 
kindly furnished me with the autograph. 

Facsimile of Parts of a Letter from Oliver Cromwell 
TO John Cotton 203, 204 

Photographed from the original MS. letter in the Lenox Library. I give 
only the conclusion of the letter, and the superscription. 

Autograph of John Norton 206 

From VVinsor's America. 

Autograph of Richard Bellingham 208 

From the Memorial History of Boston. 

r NORTON'S Heart of New 

England Rent 209 

A Declaration of the Sad 
Persecution 210 

Photographed from originals in the Lenox Library. 

John Endicott {photogravure) facing 2.12, 

From the original painting (1665), in the possession of Hon. William 
Crowninshicld Endicott, of Danvers, Mass. Autograph from Winsor's 
Atnerica. 

Autograph of William Dyer 214 

From the signature of his MS. letter to the magistrates in Boston, inter- 
ceding for his wife ; now in the MS. collection of Hon. Mellen Chamberlain. 

Facslmile OF Christison's Autograph Letter from the 
Jaii 216 

From the Memorial History of Boston. The original MS. is in the State 
Archives. 

Charles II 218 

From an engraving by Blooteling, in the Gardiner Greene Hubbard collec- 
tion in the Library of Congress, after the original painting by Sir Peter 
Lely. Autograph from the MS. collection of Hon. Mellen Chamberlain. 



Facsimile Title-Pages of ^ 



xxxiv NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS 

A Pixk-Trke Shilling 219 

Photographed from a coin in the possession of the Bostonian Society. 

William Goffk 220 

After a drawing by W. N. Gardiner, from the great interleaved edition of 
Clarendon in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, through the kindness of the 
librarian, G. W. B. Nicholson, Ksq. The original is, 1 believe, at Dr. 
Brooke's, Lcadenhall Street, London. Autograph from a MS. in the Lenox 
Library. 

RE(iU:iI>ES HIDING I'NDER A BRIDGE 22! 

From Barber's Intcrestiftf; Extents in the History of the United States, 
New Haven, 1S29 ; a quaint little book, with many quaint pictures. 

AuTOGRArii OF Edward Wiialley 222 

From a M.S. in the Lenox Library. 

John Daventort (///r;%'^;vi7'///v) facing 2^2. 

From an original portrait (artist unknown) in Alumni Hall, Vale Univer- 
sity. Autograph from Winsor's America. 

Autograph of John Dixwell 223 

From a photograph (kindly lent by my friend, Eihjs Sargent Dixwell, Esq., 
of Cambridge) of an original MS. in the possession of the New Haven His- 
torical Society. 

Auto(;raphs of the Royal Com.missioners 224 

From Winsor's America. 

Autograph of Abraham Pierson 225 

From a MS. in Vale University Library. 

Facsimile of the KiNCi's I^roclamation for the Arrest 

OF WhALLEV and (iOFFE 226,227 

Reduced from an original broadside in the Lenox Library. 

Facsimile TnLE-PA(iE of Kliot's Algonqcln New Testa- 

.MENT 231 

IMiotographcd fnim an original in Harvard University Library. 

Facsimile Title-Page of Morton's New England's Me- 
MORiAi 232 

Photographed from an original in the Lenox Library. 

Chair iielonging to Eliot 235 

After a drawing by Rev. S, J. ^a^ro\v*^. pastor of the F'irst Church in Dor- 
chester, engraved in Memorial ni\tory ,\f Boston, i. 415. '1 lie chair was the 
one commonly used by Kliot in liis >lu(ly. .\ftrr his death in p-oo it was 
preserved as a keepsake for about a century and a half, and was then i^ivcn 
to Mr. Barrows's i>redecessor, Kev. T. M. Harris, whu placed it in tin- church 
Ix-low the puli)it. 

John Eliot {photOi:iravurc) f^^if'K 236 

I'rom a jviinting in the Boston Museum of I'ine Arts, which has no other 
evidence of authentic ity than the in>cription in the uj>per left-hand corner. 
Kliot came to New ICngland at the age of twenty-seven, and never crossed the 



NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS xxxv 

ocean again, but the portrait of so famous a missionary might have been 
painted in Bobton. The late Hon. William Whiting, of Koxbury. found this 
picture in 1S51 in the shop of a London dealer, who could give no inlormation 
as to its source. The autograph is from Winsor's Amcriia. 

Paul Kevkrk's Fa.nciful Portrait of King Philip . . . 239 

This was engraved by Revere for the edition of Church's Eniertainini:^ 
History of King Philip" x War, printed at Newport in 1772. 

KiN'(i Philip, his Mark 240 

From his signature to a MS. deed of land in Taunton, of which the original 
belonged to the late Samuel Gardner Drake. 

Autograph of Edward HuTtiii\so.\ . .^ 243 

From the Memorial History of Boston. 

Autograph of Simox Willard 244 

From the MS. collection of Hon. Mellen Chamberlain. 

The Mysterious Visitor at WwnA-.x {photi\i^r(iviin'\ facing 2\^ 

From an engraving kindly lent by W. H. Whitcomb, E>(i., of Northampton, 
Mass. The engraving, by John Mcliae, is from a paintmg by F. .V. Chap- 
man, of New York; and was i>ublished under the title. " The Perils of our 
Forefathers." 

Autograph of Roiiert Treat 246 

From Trumbull's History of Hart f ml I'ounty, iJoston. iS8o. 

Autographs of the Federal Commissioners in 1675 • • -47 

From the Memorial History of Boston. 

Autograph of Daniel (iooKiN . ' 248 

From the same. 

JOSIAH WiNSLOW 249 

After the original painting, now in Pilgrim Hall. Plymouth. .Autograph 
from the Memorial History of Boston. 

Autograph of IJenja-min Church 250 

From Winsor's America. 
Map of the N.\RRA(iANSETT C.VMPAKiN OF 1675 25I 

In making this epitomized map 1 have used the Road Map of Rhode Island, 
revised from the U. S. (ieuloi^ical .Vwrtrv, published by C. A. Palx)die & 
Son, Providence; the map in JJodge's Soldiers in JCtnji^ Philip's War, Leom- 
inster, 1S9*'), p. 184: the map prefixed to Miss Caroline Hazard's Collej;e 
Tom: a Study of \arrai^ansett Life in the XVUIth Century ; and a pen- 
cil map of the Tower Hill neighbourhood, kindly sketched for the occasion 
by Miss Hazard. 1 have also to thank Mr. W. E. Foster, of the Providence 
Public Library, for some extremely valuable and interesting suggestions con- 
cerning the campaign. 

In consulting Map No. 10 of the elaborate and beautiful Century Atlas of 
the World, I tind a very serious blunder in placing the crossed swords which 
indicate the location of the (Ireat .Swamp Fight. 'J'he battlefield, as there 
indicated, comes south of the Narragansett Pier railroad and al»ut midway 
between the Saugatucket river and the northeast corner of Worden's pond. 



xxxvi NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS 

In other words it is four miles out of place, and might be sought in vain by 
anybody who should put his trust in the Century map. 

Autograph of Samuel Appleton 252 

From the Memorial History of Boston. 

Storming of the Narragansett Fort 253 

From Barber's Interesting Events, already cited. 

Autograph of William Hubbard 257 

From VVinsor's America. 

/ Mrs. Rowlandson's. Captivity 259 
Facsimile Title-Pages of J Increase Mather's Indian 

( War 260 

Photographed from originals in the Lenox Library. 

Autograph of William Turner 262 

From the Memorial History of Boston. 

Autographs of George Denison and John Talcott . . 263 

The former is from Trumbull's History of Hartford County : the latter 
is from the Colonial Records of Connecticut, through the kindness of Arthur 
Perkins, Esq., of Hartford. 

Facsimile Title-Page of The Wicked Man's Portion . . 267 

Photographed from an original in the Lenox Library. 

Hubbard's Map of New England 268, 269 

Photographed from an original in the Lenox Library, 

The Austin House in Cambridge, 1657 271 

From a photograph, kindly lent by the present occupant. Dr. Austin Hol- 
den, librarian of the American Academy of Sciences. The house, No. 21 
Linnxan Street, was built in 1657 by my great-great-great-great-great-grand- 
father, Deacon John Cooper, town-clerk of Cambridge. It has been known 
successively as the Cooper, the Hill, the Frost, and the Austin House, but 
• still remains in the possession of descendants of John Cooper. 

The Lee House in Cambridge, cir. 1660 275 

From a photograpii. The framework of this house, So. 150 Brattle Street, 
is said to have been brought from England. For nearly a century it stood in 
Watertown, the eastern boundary of which was at Sparks Street until 1754, 
when it was shifted about half a mile westward. In the days which ushered 
in the Revolution the house belonged to Judge Joseph Lee, who was one of 
the '"mandamus councillors*' of 1774. But unlike most of the famous Tory 
houses on Brattle Street, the Lee house was not confiscated. Its owner's 
'i'oryism was mild and his temper conciliatory, and after the siege of Boston 
he was allowed to return to his home, where he died in 1802. The house 
now belongs to Colonel Henry Lee, of Boston. 

The House at North and Smith Streets, Boston, cir. 

i^>74 277 

From a photograph — kindly lent by Miss H. Willi.Tms — of a painting 
by Miss S. M. Lane, showing the place as it looked in 1881. According to 
Mr. S. A. Drake, this is probably the oldest house now standing in its ori- 
ginal form, in Boston. 



NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS xxxvii 
John Wilson 279 

After the portrait in the gallery of the Massachusetts Historical Society. 
Autograph from the Memorial History of Boston. 

Specimen of Indian Wampum 282 

From a drawing of Penn's wampum belt, in the possession of the Pennsyl- 
vania Historical Society. 

Autograph of Edward Randolph 282 

From the Manorial History of Boston. 

John Leverett 283 

From a miniature in the possession of Richard M. Saltonstall, Ksq., of 
Chestnut Hill, Boston. Autograph from Winsor's Amcriia. 

Joseph Dudley 285 

From a painting (artist unknown) in the possession of Robert Charles Win- 
tlirop, Esq., of Boston. Autograph from Winsor's America. 

James, Duke of Monmouth 287 

After the engraving in British Mezzotint o Portraits, from the original 
painting by Sir Peter Lcly, Autograph from Thane's British Autography. 

Simon Bradstreet 289 

From the painting in the senate chamber in the Massachusetts State 
House. Autograph from Winsor's America. 

Autograph of Anne Bradstreet 289 

From the Memorial History of Boston. 

Facsimile Title-I^acje of The Tenth Mise ' . 291 

Photographed from an original in the Lenox Library. 

Louise de Keroualle, Drc hess of Portsmouth .... 293 

From the original painting by Varelst in the Royal Ciallery at Hampton 
Court. .Autograph from a fragment of a M.*^. letter preserved in the French 
National Archives (G" ('ontrole general ifcs finances), Ki\v^vzi\ii(\ in Forne- 
ron's Lottise de Keroualle^ Paris, i,SS(). 

Increase Mathi:r {photogravure) f^f^^f^a, 294 

From the frontispiece to .Metnoirs of the Life of Increase Mather^ Lon- 
don, 1725, after an original painting by Vanderspirit, in the possession of the 
Massachusetts Historical Society. Autograph from \\ikt Memorial History 
of Boston. 

George Jeffreys 295 

From an engraving in South Kensington Xational Portraits^ after the 
original painting by Sir Godfrey Kneller. Autograph from facsimile of his 
letter to the mayor of Pomfret. in Yorkshire. 1684, in the Autographic 
Mirror. 

James II 297 

From Lord Ronald Ciower's Great Historic Galleries of England, Lon- 
don, 1881. Autograph from the MS. collection of Hon. Mellen Chamberlain. 

The Charter Oak 298 

After a picture of the tree painted by Brownell in iS;;. the year before it 



xxxviii NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS 

was blown down. The picture was painted for Hon. Marshall Jewell, at one 
time governor of Connecticut, and is now in the possession of his grandson, 
Marshall Jewell Dodge, Esq., of Simsbury. The present illustration is taken 
from a photograph of this painting, kindly procured by Arthur Perkins, Esq., 
of Hartford. It is said to be the best likeness of the tree in existence, but 
it does not show the hole in which the charter was hidden, which was on the 
further side of the tree. 

Autograph of John Allvx 299 

From Winsor's Antenca. 

Samuel Willakd 300 

After an engraving by Van der Gucht (source unknown) in the Gardiner 
Greene Hubl>ard collection in the Library of Congress. Autograph from 
the Memorial History of Boston. 

The First King's Chapel, Boston, 1689 301 

From (Jreen wood's History of King's Chapel^ Boston. 1833. 'i'he ori- 
ginal source is probably an old print known as Price's View of Boston, cir. 
1720. 

Autograph of John Wise 302 

From a M.S. in the Lenox Library. 

Sir Edmund Andros 303 

From an engraving in Andros Tracts, vol. i., after a photograph from an 
original paintin.:;, now in the possessitm of Amyas Charles Andros, Esq., 
of London. Autograph from the MS. collection of Hon. Mellen Chamber- 
lain. 

Great Seal of New EN(iLAND under Andros 304 

From the .\ft'moriai History of Boston. 

The First Town-House of Boston, 1658 305 

From a tracing kindly lent by Mr. George A. Clough, a well-known archi- 
tect of Boston. 'J'hc picture is a reconstruction. The excellent seventeenth 
century architect. Thomas Joy, who built this Town-House, built also the 
Mceting-House at llingham (Nee above, p. i6^), the Aspinwall house in 
Brookline, and the old feather store in Dock .Square, and had a characteristic 
style. Following these clues, with the aid of the builder's s))eciiications in 
the town records for 165;, Mr. Clough arrived at this drawing, which is an 
excellent specimen of historical research. This Town-House stood upon 
the same site as its successor, now commonly called the Old .State House, at 
State and Washington streets. Mr. Clough was the architect employed by 
tlie city ot Boston to restore that noble building to its present condition. 
See the Ol J State House Memorial, Boston, 1SS2. pp. 12;. i;;. 

William III 306 

From an engraving (after the original portrait by ."^ir ( iodfrey Kncllor) in 
the Gardiner Greene Hubbard collection in the Library of Congress. Auto- 
graph from the Memorial History of Boston. 

Autographs of the I^lvmouth Governors 308 

From Winsor's Ameriea. These five were all the governors of tlie Plym- 
outh colony except the first one, John Carver, of whom no autograph is 
known. 



NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS xxxix 

P'acsimile of thp: Massachusetts Charter of 1691 . 308, 309 

Photographed from the original document in the Massachusetts State 
House, by the kind permission of lion. \V. M. Olin, Secretary of State. 

Autograph of Sir William Phips, First Roval Gov- 
ernor OF Massachusetts 309 

From the Memorial History of Boston. 

Tailpiece of Swords 311 

From Winsor's America^ iii. 274. All these swords are in the possession 
of the Massachusetts Historical Society. Four of thcni belong to the history 
of the seventeenth century, and live are associated with the Mayflower colony. 
The middle sword belonged to (iovernor Carver. The next, descending left- 
ward, is that of (ieneral John Winslow, grandson of the doughty Josiali, mal- 
leus i\arraj;attscttorum. Next comes that of Miles Standi-^h, and then that 
of General John Brooks, governor (»f Massachusetts 1816-23. Starting anew 
at the top and descending to the right, we have tirst the sword ot' Sir William 
Pcpperell, second, that of William Hrcwster, and third, that of Colonel Ben- 
jamin Church, the fighter and chronicler of King I*hilip's War. 



THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 



CHAPTER I 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 




COIN OF "LITTLE AUGUSTUS '' 



It used to be the fashion of historians, looking super- 
ficially at the facts presented in chronicles and tables of 
dates, without analyzing and comparing vast groups of facts 
distributed through centuries, or even suspecting the need 
for such analysis and comparison, 
to assign the date 476 a. d. as the 
moment at which the Roman 
Empire came to an end. It was 
in that year that the soldier of 
fortune, Odovakar, commander 
of the Herulian mercenaries in 
Italy, sent the handsome boy 

Romulus, son of Orestes, better known as " little Augustus," 
from his imperial throne to the splendid villa of Lucullus near 
Naples, and gave him a yearly pension of $35,000 [6,000 
solidi] to console him for the loss of a world. As 324 years 
elapsed before another emperor was crowned at 
Rome, and as the political headship of Europe after the Roman 
that happy restoration remained upon the German come^to an 
soil to which the events of the eighth century had ^^^' 
shifted it, nothing could seem more natural than the habit 
which historians once had, of saying that the mighty career 
of Rome had ended, as it had begun, with a Romulus. 
Sometimes the date 476 was even set up as a great landmark 
dividing modern from ancient history. For those, however, 



2 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

who took such a view, it was impossible to see the events of 
the Middle Ages in their true relations to what went before 
and what came after. It was impossible to understand what 
went on in Italy in the sixth century, or to explain the posi- 
tion of that great Roman power which had its centre on the 
Bosphorus, which in the code of Justinian left us our grand- 
est monument of Roman law, and which for a thousand 
years was the staunch bulwark of Europe against the suc- 
cessive aggressions of Persian, Saracen, and Turk. It was 
equally impossible to understand the rise of the Papal power, 
the all-important politics of the great Saxon and Swabian 
emperors, the relations of mediaeval England to the Conti- 
nental powers, or the marvellously interesting growth of the 
modern European systern of nationalities. 

Since the middle of the nineteenth century the study of 
history has undergone changes no less sweeping than those 
which have in the same time affected the study of the 
physical sciences. Vast groups of facts distributed through 
various ages and countries have been subjected to compari- 
son and analysis, with the result that they have not only 
thrown fresh light upon one another, but have in many cases 
enabled us to recover historic points of view that had long 
been buried in obli\aon. Such an instance was furnished 
about twenty-five years ago by Dr. Bryce's epoch-making 
work on the Holy Roman Empire. Since then historians 
.^ ^^ still recognize the importance of the date 476 as 
Odovakar's that which left the Bishop of Rome the dominant 

work 

personage in Italy, and marked the shifting of the 
political centre of gravity from the Palatine to the Lateran. 
This was one of those subtle changes which escape notice 
until after some of their effects have attracted attention. 
The most important effect, in this instance, realized after 
three centuries, was not the overthrow of Roman power in 
the West, but its indefinite extension and expansion. The 
men of 476 not only had no idea that they were entering 
upon a new era, but least of all did they dream that the 
Roman Empire had come to an end, or was ever likely to. 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 3 

Its cities might be pillaged, its provinces overrun, but the 
supreme imperial power itself was something without which 
the men of those days could not imagine the world as exist- 
ing. It must have its divinely ordained representative in 
one place if not in another. If the throne in Italy was 
vacant, it was no more than had happened before ; there 
was still a throne at Constantinople, and to its occupant 
Zeno the Roman Senate sent a message, saying that one 
emperor was enough for both ends of the earth, and begging 
him to confer upon the gallant Odovakar the title of patri- 
cian, and entrust the affairs of Italy to his care. So when 
Sicambrian Chlodwig set up his Merovingian kingdom in 
northern Gaul, he was glad to array himself in the robe of a 
Roman consul, and obtain from the eastern emperor a formal 
ratification of his rule. 

Countless examples show that the event of 476 was under- 
stood as the virtual reunion of West and East under a single 
head ; whereas, on the other hand, the impressive scene in 
the basilica of St. Peter's on the Christmas of 800, when 
Pope Leo III. placed the diadem of the Caesars upon the 
Prankish brow of Charles the Great, was regarded, not as 
the restoration of an empire once extinguished, but as a 
new separation between P2ast and West, a re-transfer of the 
world's political centre from the Bosphorus to the Tiber. 
When after two centuries more the sceptre had ^^ „ , 

'■ The Holy 

passed from the line of Prankish Charles to the Roman 
line of Saxon Otto, this Holy Roman Empire, "^^^^^ 
shaped by the alliance of German king with Italian pontiff, 
acquired such consistency as to outlast the whole group of 
political conditions in which it originated. These conditions 
endured for five centuries after the coronation in 800 ; the 
empire preserved a continuous existence for yet five cen- 
turies more. Until after the downfall of the great Hohen- 
staufFen emperors, late in the thirteenth century, soon 
followed by the Babylonish exile of the popes at Avignon, 
the men of western Europe felt themselves in a certain 
sense members of a political whole of which Rome was the 



4 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

centre. By the beginning of the sixteenth century this . 
feeling had almost disappeared. Men's world had enlarged 
till Rome no longer seemed so great to them as it had 
seemed to their forefathers who had lived under its mighty 
spell, or as it seems to us who view it through the lenses of 
history. Within its own imperial domains powerful nations 
had slowly grown up, whose speech would have sounded 
strange to Cicero; while beyond ocean were found new 
lands where the name of Caesar had never been heard. By 
the side of Louis XI I. or Ferdinand of Aragon, it was not 
easy to recognize a grander dignity in the Hapsburg suc- 
cessor of Augustus ; and the mutterings of revolt against 
papal supremacy already heralded the storm which was soon 
to rend all Christendom in twain. After the Reformation, 
the conception of a universal Christian monarchy, as held 
whether by St. Augustine or by Dante, had ceased to have 
a meaning and faded from men's memories. Yet in its 
forms and titles the Holy Roman Empire continued to sur- 
vive, until, as Voltaire said, it had come to be neither holy, 
nor Roman, nor an empire. So long did it remain upon the 
scene that in 1790 an illustrious American philosopher, 
Benjamin Thompson, a native of Woburn in Massachusetts 
and sometime dweller in Rumford, New Hampshire, was 
admitted to a share in its dignities as Count Rumford. 
When at last in 1806, among the sweeping changes wrought 
by the battle of Austerlitz, the Emperor Francis H. resigned 
his position as head of the Germanic body, there were per- 
haps few who could have told why that head should have 
been called emperor rather than king ; fewer still, no doubt, 
who realized that the long succession of Caesars had now 
first come to an end. 

I cite this final date of 1806 as interesting, but not as 
important, in connection with a political system which had 
already quite ceased to exist, save in so far as one might say 
that the spirit of it still survives in political methods and 
habits of thought that will yet be long in dying out. With 
great political systems, as with typical forms of organic life, 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 5 

the processes of development and of extinction are exceed- 
ingly slow, and it is seldom that the stages can he 
sharply marked by dates. The processes which shiftingof 
have gradually shifted the seat of empire until the FroITihe 
prominent part played nineteen centuries ago by ™'ij"'"' 
Rome and Alexandria, on opposite sides of the k"''"!,?"'' 
Mediterranean, has been at length assumed by Lon- scendants, 
don and New York, on opposite sides of the Atlan- who speak 
tic, form a most interesting subject of study. But ^"s"'*' 
to understand them, one must do much more than merely 




^. 



catalogue the facts of political history; one must acquire a 
knowledge of the drifts and tendencies of human thought 
and feeling and action from the earliest ages to the times in 



6 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

which we live. In covering so wide a field we cannot of 
course expect to obtain anything like complete results. In 
order to make a statement simple enough to be generally 
intelligible, it is necessary to pass over many circumstances 
and many considerations that might in one way and another 
qualify what we have to say. Nevertheless it is quite pos' 
sible for us to discern, in their bold general outlines, some 
historic truths of supreme importance. In contemplating 
the salient features of the change which has now for a 
long time been making the world more English and less 
Roman, we shall find not only intellectual pleasure and profit 
but practical guidance. For in order to understand this 
slow but mighty change, we must look a little into that pro- 
cess of nation-making which has been going on since prehis- 
toric ages and is going on here among us to-day, and from 
the recorded experience of men in times long past we may 
gather lessons of infinite value for ourselves and for our 
children's children. As in all the achievements of mankind, 
it is only after much weary experiment and many a heart- 
sickening failure that success is attained, so has it been 
especially with nationrmaking. Skill in the political art is 
the fruit of ages of intellectual and moral discipline ; and 
just as picture-writing had to come before printing and 
canoes before steamboats, so the cruder political methods 
had to be tried and found wanting, amid the tears and 
groans of unnumbered generations, before methods less crude 
could be put into operation. In the historic survey upon 
which we are now to enter, we shall see that the Roman 
Empire represented a crude method of nation-making which 
began with a masterful career of triumph over earlier and 
cruder methods, but has now for several centuries been 
giving way before a more potent and satisfactory method. 
And just as the merest glance at the history of Europe 
shows us Germanic peoples wresting the supremacy from 
Rome, so in this deeper study we shall discover a grand 
and far-reaching Teutonic Idea of political life overthrowing 
and supplanting the Roman Idea. Our attention will be 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 7 

drawn toward England as the battle-ground and the seven- 
teenth century as the critical moment of the struggle ; we 
shall see in Puritanism the tremendous militant force that 
determined the issue ; and when our perspective has thus 
become properly adjusted, we shall begin to realize for the 
first time how truly wonderful was the age that witnessed 
the Beginnings of New England. We have long had before 
our minds the colossal figure of Roman Julius as "the fore- 
most man of all this world," but as the seventeenth century 
recedes into the past the figure of I^nglish Oliver begins to 
loom up as perhaps even more colossal. In order to see 
these world-events in their true perspective, and to make 
perfectly clear the manner in which we are to estimate them, 
we must go a long distance away from them. We must even 
go back, as nearly as may be, to the beginning of things. 

If we look back for a moment to the primitive stages of 
society, we may picture to ourselves the surface of the earth 
sparsely and scantily covered with wandering tribes of sav- 
ages, rude in morals and manners, narrow and monotonous 
in experience, sustaining life very much as lower animals 
sustain it, by gathering wild fruits or slaying wild game, and 
waging chronic warfare alike with powerful beasts and with 
rival tribes of men. In the widest sense the subject of 
political history is the description of the processes poiitj^^i 
by which, under favourable circumstances, innumer- history is 
able such primitive tribes have become welded of nation- 
together into mighty nations, with elevated stand- "^* ^"^ 
ards of morals and manners, with wide and varied experience, 
sustaining life and ministering to human happiness by elabo- 
rate arts and sciences, and putting a curb upon warfare by 
limiting its scope, diminishing its cruelty, and interrupting it 
by intervals of peace. The story, as laid before us in the 
records of three thousand years, is fascinating and absorbing 
in its human interest for those who content themselves with 
the study of its countless personal incidents, and neglect its 
profound philosophical lessons. But for those who study 
it in the scientific spirit, the human interest of its details 



8 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

becomes still more intensely fascinating and absorbing. Bat- 
tles and coronations, poems and inventions, migrations and 
martyrdoms, acquire new meanings and awaken new emo- 
tions as we begin to discern their bearings upon the solemn 
work of ages that is slowly winning for humanity a richer 
and more perfect life. By such meditation upon men's 
thoughts and deeds is the understanding purified, till we 
become better able to comprehend our relations to the world 
and the duty that lies upon each of us to shape his conduct 
rightly. 

In the welding together of primitive shifting tribes into 
stable and powerful nations, we can seem to discern three 
different methods that have been followed at different times 
and places, with widely different results. In all cases the 
fusion has been effected by war, but it has gone on in three 
broadly contrasted ways. The first of these methods, which 
has been followed from time immemorial in the Oriental 
world, may be roughly described as conquest without 
tai method incorporation. A tribe grows to national dimensions 
maktng" ^Y Conquering and annexing its neighbours, with- 
out admitting them to a share in its political life. 
Probably there is always at first some incorporation, or even 
perhaps some crude germ of federative alliance ; but this 
goes very little way, — only far enough to fuse together a 
few closely related tribes, agreeing in speech and habits, 
into a single great tribe that can overwhelm its neighbours. 
In early society this sort of incorporation cannot go far with- 
out being stopped by some impassable barrier of language 
or religion. After reaching that point, the conquering tribe 
simply annexes its neighbours and makes them its slaves. It 
becomes a superior caste, ruling over vanquished peoples, 
whom it oppresses with frightful cruelty, while living on the 
fruits of their toil in what has been aptly termed Oriental 
luxury. Such has been the origin of many eastern despot- 
isms, in the valleys of the Nile and Euphrates, and else- 
where. Such a political structure admits of a very consider- 
able development of material civilization, in which gorgeous 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 9 

palaces and artistic temples may be built, and perhaps even 
literature and scholarship rewarded, with money wrung from 
millions of toiling wretches. There is that sort of brutal 
strength in it, that it may endure for many long ages, until 
it comes into collision with some higher civilization. Then 
it is likely to end in sudden collapse, because the fighting 
quality of the people has been destroyed. Populations that 
have lived for centuries in fear of impalement or crucifixion, 
and have known no other destination for the products of 
their labour than the clutches of the omnipresent tax-gatherer, 
are not likely to furnish good soldiers. A handful of free- 
men will scatter them like sheep, as the Greeks did twenty- 
three centuries ago at Kynaxa, as the English did the other 
day at Tel el-Kebir. On the other hand, where the manli- 
ness of the vanquished people is not crushed, the sway of 
the conquerors who cannot enter into political union with 
them is likely to be cast off, as in the case of the Moors in 
Spain. There was a civilization in many respects admirable. 
It was eminent for industry, science, art, and poetry ; its 
annals are full of romantic interest ; it was in some respects 
superior to the Christian system which supplanted it ; in 
many ways it contributed largely to the progress of the 
human race ; and it was free from some of the worst vices 
of Oriental civilizations. Yet because of the fundamentab 
defect that between the Christian Spaniard and his Mussul- 
man conqueror there could be no political fusion, this brilliant 
civilization was doomed. During eight centuries of more or 
less extensive rule in the Spanish peninsula, the Moor was 
from first to last an alien, just as after four centuries the 
Turk is still an alien in the Balkan peninsula. The natural 
result was a struggle that lasted age after age till it ended in 
the utter extermination of one of the parties, and left behind 
it a legacy of hatred and persecution that has made the his- 
tory of modern Spain a dismal record of shame and disaster. 
In this first method of nation-making, then, which we 
may call the Oriental method, one now sees but little to com- 
mend. It was better than savagery, and for a long time no 



lo THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

more efficient method was possible, but the leading peoples 
of the world have long since outgrown it ; and although the 
resulting form of political government is the oldest we know 
and is not yet extinct, it nevertheless has not the elements 
of permanence. Sooner or later it will disappear, as sav- 
agery is disappearing, as the rudest types of inchoate human 
society have disappeared. 

The second method by which nations have been made 
The Roman may be Called the Roman method ; and we may 
naVioniwJc- briefly describe it as conquest with incorporation^ 
^°K but ivithout representation. The secret of Rome's 

wonderful strength lay in the fact that she incorporated the 
vanquished peoples into her own body politic. In the early 
time there was a fusion of tribes going on in Latium, which, 
if it had gone no further, would have been similar to the 
early fusion of Ionic tribes in Attika or of Iranian tribes in 
Media. But whereas everywhere else this political fusion 
soon stopped, in the Roman world it went on. One after 
another Italian tribes and Italian towns were not merely 
overcome but admitted to a share in the political rights and 
privileges of the victors. By the time this had gone on 
until the whole Italian peninsula was consolidated under the 
headship of Rome, the result was a power incomparably 
greater than any other that the world had yet seen. Never 
before had so many people been brought under one govern- 
ment without making slaves of most of them. Liberty had 
existed before, whether in barbaric tribes or in Greek cities. 
Union had existed before, in Assyrian or Persian despotisms. 
Now liberty and union were for the first time joined together, 
with consequences enduring and stupendous. The whole 
Mediterranean world was brought under one government ; 
ancient barriers of religion, speech, and custom were over- 
thrown in every direction ; and innumerable barbarian tribes, 
from the Alps to the wilds of northern Britain, from the Bay 
of Biscay to the Carpathian mountains, were more or less 
completely transformed into Roman citizens, protected by 
Roman law, and sharing in the material and spiritual benefits 




THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA ii 

of Roman civilization. Gradually the whole vast structure 
became permeated by Hellenic and Jewish thought, and thus 
were laid the lasting foundations of modern society, of a 
common Christendom, furnished with a common stock of 
ideas concerning man's relation to God and the world, and 
acknowledging a common standard of right and wrong. 
This was a prodigious work, which raised human life to a 
much higher plane than that which it had formerly occupied, 
and endless gratitude is due to the thousands of steadfast 
men who in one way or another devoted their lives to its 
accomplishment. 

This Roman method of nation-making had nevertheless its 
fatal shortcomings, and it was only very slowly, moreover, 
that it wrought out its own best results. It was , , 

*^ Its slow 

but gradually that the rights and privileges of Ro- develop- 
man citizenship were extended over the whole 
Roman world, and in the mean time there were numerous 
instances where conquered provinces seemed destined to 
no better fate than had awaited the victims of Egyptian 
or Assyrian conquest. The rapacity and cruelty of Caius 
Verres could hardly have been outdone by the worst of 
Persian satraps ; but there was a difference. A moral sense 
and political sense had been awakened which could see both 
the wickedness and the folly of such conduct. The voice of 
a Cicero sounded with trumpet tones against the oppressor, 
who was brought to trial and exiled for deeds which under 
the Oriental system, from the days of Artaxerxes to those of 
the Grand Turk, would scarcely have called forth a reprov- 
ing word. It was by slow degrees that the Roman came 
to understand the virtues of his own method, and learned 
to apply it consistently until the people of all parts of the 
empire were, in theory at least, equal before the law. 

In theory, I say, for in point of fact there was enough of 
viciousness in the Roman system to prevent it from achiev- 
ing permanent success. Historians have been fond of show- 
ing how the vitality of the whole system was impaired by 
wholesale slave-labour, by the false political economy which 



12 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

taxes all for the benefit of a few, by the debauching vi^w of 
civil office which regards it as private perquisite and not as 
public trust, and — worst of all, perhaps — by the commu- 
nistic practice of feeding an idle proletariat out of the im- 
perial treasury. The names of these deadly social evils are 
not unfamiliar to American ears. £ven of the last we have 
heard ominous whispers in the shape of bills to promote 
mendicancy under the specious guise of fostering education 
or rewarding military services. And is it not a striking 
illustration of the slowness with which mankind learns the 
plainest rudiments of wisdom and of justice, that only in the 
full light of the nineteenth century, and at the cost of a 
terrible war, should the people of the United States have 
got rid of a system of labour devised in the crudest ages of 
antiquity and fraught with misery to the employed, degra- 
dation to the employers, and loss to everybody ? 

These evils, we see, in one shape or another, have existed 
almost everywhere ; and the vice of the Roman system did 
itsessen- "^^ consist in the fact that under it they were fully 
tiai defect developed, but in the fact that it had no adequate 
means of overcoming them. Unless helped by something 
supplied from outside the Roman world, civilization must 
have succumbed to these evils, the progress of mankind 
must have been stopped. What was needed was the intro- 
duction of a fierce spirit of personal liberty and local self- 
government. The essential vice of the Roman system was 
that it had been unable to avoid weakening the spirit of 
personal independence and crushing out local self-govern- 
ment among the peoples to whom it had been applied. It 
owed its wonderful success to joining Liberty with Union, 
but as it went on it found itself compelled gradually to 
sacrifice Liberty to Union, strengthening the hands of the 
central government and enlarging its functions more and 
more, until by and by the political life of the several parts 
had so far died away that, under the pressure of attack from 
without, the Union fell to pieces and the whole political 
system had to be slowly and painfully reconstructed. 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 13 

Now if we ask why the Roman government found itself 
thus obliged to sacrifice personal liberty and local independ- 
ence to the paramount necessity of holding the empire 
together, the answer will point us to the essential and fun- 
damental vice of the Roman method of nation-making. It 
lacked the principle of representation. The old Roman 
world knew nothing of representative assemblies, it knew 
Its senates were assemblies of notables, constitut- o°repre- 
ing in the main an aristocracy of men who had held sentation 
high office ; its popular assemblies were primary assemblies, 
— town meetings. There was no notion of such a thing as 
political power delegated by the people to representatives 
who were to wield it away from home and out of sight of 
their constituents. The Roman's only notion of delegated 
power was that of authority delegated by the government to 
its generals and prefects who discharged at a distance its 
military and civil functions. When, therefore, the Roman 
popular government, originally adapted to a single city, had 
come to extend itself over a large part of the world, it 
lacked the one institution by means of which government 
could be carried on over so vast an area without degenerating 
into despotism. Even could the device of repre- Andthere- 
sentation have occurred to the mind of some states- [n'^despot^ 
man trained in Roman methods, it would probably '^^^ 
have made no difference. Nobody would have known how 
to use it. You cannot invent an institution as you would 
invent a plough. Such a notion as that of representative 
government must needs start from small beginnings and 
grow in men's minds until it should become part and parcel 
of their mental habits. For the want of it the home govern- 
ment at Rome became more and more unmanageable until 
it fell into the hands of the army, while at the same time 
the administration of the empire became more and more 
centralized ; the people of its various provinces, even while 
their social condition was in some respects improved, had 
less and less voice in the management of their local affairs, 
and thus the spirit of personal independence was gradually 



14 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

weakened. This centralization was greatly intensified by the 
peri>etual danger of invasion on the northern and eastern 
frontiers, all the way from the Rhine to the Euphrates. Do 
what it would, the government must become more and more 
a military despotism, must revert toward the Oriental type. 
The period extending from the third century before Christ 
to the third century after was a period of extraordinary in- 
tellectual expansion and moral awakening ; but when we 
observe the governmental changes introduced under the 
emperor Diocletian at the very end of this period, we realize 
how serious had been the political retrogression, how grave 
the danger that the stream of human life might come to 
stagnate in luirope, as it had long since stagnated in Asia. 

Two mighty agents, cooperating in their opposite ways to 
prevent any such disaster, were already entering upon the 
scene. The first was the colonization of the empire by Ger- 
manic tribes already far advanced beyond savagery, already 
somewhat tinctured with Roman ciWlization, yet at the same 
time endowed with an intense spirit of personal and local 
independence. With this wholesome spirit they were about 
to refresh and revivify the empire, but at the risk of undoing 
its work of j)()litical organization and reducing it to barbarism. 
The second was the establishment of the Roman church, an 

institution capable of holding European society 
lirinun together in spite of a political disintegration that 
luluhr ^^*^^ widesj)read and long-continued. While wave 
Komun after wave of Germanic colonization poured over 

romanized Europe, breaking down old boundary- 
lines and working sudden and astonishing changes on the 
n\ap, setting up in everj' quarter baronies, dukedoms, and 
kingdoms fermenting with vigorous political life ; while for 
twenty generations this salutary but wild and dangerous 
work was going on, there was never a moment when the 
iuiperial sway of Rome was quite set aside and forgot- 
ten, there was never a time when union of some sort was 
m>t maintained through the dominion which the church 
had establi.shed over the European mind. When we duly 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 



>5 



consider this great fact in its relations to what went before 
and what came after, it is hard to find words fit to express 
the debt of gratitude which modern civilization owes to the 
Roman Catholic church. When we think of all the work, big 
with promise of the future, that went on in those centuries 
which modern writers 
in their ignorance used 
once to set apart and 
stigmatize as the "Dark 
Ages " ; when we con-_ 
sider how the seeds of 
what is noblest in mod- 
ern life were then pain- 
fully sown upon the soil 
which imperial Rome 
had prepared ; when we 
think of the various work 
of a Gregory, a Hencdict, 
a Boniface, an Alfred, a 
Charlemagne ; we feel 
that there is a sense in 
which the most brilliant aivhei. mii uheat 

achievements of pagan 

antiquity are dwarfed in comparison with these. Until quite 
lately, indeed, the student of history has had his attention 
too narrowly confined to the ages that have been preeminent 
for literature and art — the so-called classical ages — and 
thus his sense of historical perspective has been impaired. 
When Mr. Freeman uses Gregory of Tours as a text-book, 
he shows that he realizes how an cixjch may be none the 
less portentous though it has not had a Tacitus to describe 
it, and certainly no part of history is more full of human 
interest than the troubled period in which the powerful 
streams of Teutonic life pouring into Roman Kurope were 
curbed in their destructiveness and guided to noble ends by 
the Catholic church. Out of the interaction between these 
two mighty agents has come the political system of the 




i6 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

modern world The moment when this interaction might 
have seemed on the point of reaching a complete and har- 
The monious result was the glorious thirteenth century, 

thirteenth ^^^ Culminating moment of the Holy Roman Em- 
century pire. Then, as in the times of Caesar or Trajan, 
there might have seemed to be a union among civilized men, 
in which the separate life of individuals and localities was not 
submerged. In that golden age alike of feudal system, of 
empire, and of church, there were to be seen the greatest 
monarchs, in fullest sympathy with their peoples, that 
Christendom has known, — an Edward I., a St.- Louis, a 
Frederick II. Then, when in the pontificates of Innocent 
III. and his successors the Roman church reached its apogee, 
the religious yearnings of men sought expression in the 
sublimest architecture the world has seen. Then Aquinas 
summed up in his profound speculations the substance of 
Catholic theology, and while the morning twilight of modern 
science might be discerned in the treatises of Roger Bacon, 
while wandering minstrelsy revealed the treasures of modern 
speech, soon to be wrought under the hands of Dante and 
Chaucer into forms of exquisite beauty, the sacred fervour of 
the apostolic ages found itself renewed in the tender and 
mystic piety of St. Francis of Assisi. It was a wonderful 
time, but after all less memorable as the culmination of 
mediaeval empire and mediaeval church than as the dawning 
of the new era in which we live to-day, and in which the 
development of human society proceeds in accordance with 
more potent methods than those devised by the genius of 
pagan or Christian Rome. 

For the origin of these more potent methods we must 
look back to the early ages of the Teutonic people ; for their 
development and application on a grand scale we must look 
chiefly to the history of that most Teutonic of peoples in 
its institutions, though perhaps not more than half-Teutonic 
in blood, the English, with their descendants in the New 
World. The third method of nation-making may be called 
the Teutonic or preeminently the English method. It dif- 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 17 

fers from the Oriental and Roman methods which we have 
been considering in a feature of most profound ^^^ ^ 
significance ; it contains the principle of represen- ''^'' method 
tation. For this reason, though lilce all nation- making 
making it was in its early stages attended with war and 
conquest, it nevertheless does not necessarily require war 
and conquest in order to be put into operation. Of the 
other two methods war was an essential part. In the typical 




Oriental nation, such as Assyria or Persia, we see a conquer- 
ing tribe holding down a number of vanquished peoples, and 
treating them like slaves : here the nation is very imperfectly 
made, and its government is subject to sud<len and violent 
changes. In the Roman empire we see a conquering people 
hold sway over a number of vanquished i)eoples, but instead 



i8 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

of treating them like slaves, it gradually makes them its 
equals before the law ; here the resulting political body is 
much more nearly a nation, and its government is much 
more stable. A Lydian of the fifth century before Christ 
felt no sense of allegiance to the Persian master who simply 
robbed and abused him ; but the Gaul of the fifth century 
after Christ was proud of the name of Roman and ready to 
fight for the empire of which he was a citizen. We have 
seen, nevertheless, that for want of representation the Roman 
method failed when applied to an immense territory, and the 
government tended to become more and more despotic, to 
revert toward the Oriental type. Now of the English or 
Teutonic method, I say, war is not an essential part ; for 
where representative government is once established, it is 
possible for a great nation to be formed by the peaceful 
coalescence of neighbouring states, or by their union into a 
„ .^ federal body. An instance of the former was the 

Pacific ten- ^ 

dencies of coalcsccncc of England and Scotland effected early 
*^"^ in the eighteenth century after ages of mutual 
hostility ; for instances of the latter we have Switzerland 
and the United States. Now federalism, though its rise and 
establishment may be incidentally accompanied by warfare, 
is nevertheless in spirit pacific. Conquest in the Oriental 
sense is quite incompatible with it ; conquest in the Roman 
sense is hardly less so. At the close of our Civil War there 
were now and then zealous people to be found who thought 
that the southern states ought to be treated as conquered 
territory, governed by prefects sent from Washington, and 
held down by military force for a generation or so. Let us 
hope that there are few to-day who can fail to see that such 
a course would have been fraught with almost as much 
danger as the secession movement itself. At least it would 
have been a hasty confession, quite uncalled for and quite 
untrue, that American federalism had thus far proved itself 
incompetent, — that we had indeed preserved our national 
unity, but only at the frightful cost of sinking to a lower 
plane of national life. 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 19 

But federalism, with its pacific implications, was not an 
invention of the Teutonic mind. The idea was familiar to 
the city communities of ancient Greece, which, along with 
their intense love of self-government, felt the need of com- 
bined action for warding off external attack. In their Acha- 
ian and Aitolian leagues the Greeks made brilliant attempts 
toward founding a nation upon some higher principle than 
that of mere conquest, and the history of these attempts 
is exceedingly interesting and instructive. They failed for 
lack of the principle of representation, which was practically 
unknown to the world until introduced by the Teutonic 
colonizers of the Roman empire. Until the idea of power 
delegated by the people had become familiar to men's minds 
in its practical bearings, it was impossible to create a great 
nation without crushing out the political life of some of its 
parts. Some centre of power was sure to absorb all the 
political life, and grow at the expense of the outlying parts, 
until the result was a centralized despotism. Hence it came 
to be one of the commonplace assumptions of political writers 
that republics must be small, that free government Fallacy of 
is practicable only in a confined area, and that the *[j® notion 
only strong and durable government, capable of Hcsmust 
maintaining order throughout a vast territory, is 
some form of absolute monarchy. It was quite natural that 
people should formerly have held this opinion, and it is 
indeed not yet quite obsolete, but its fallaciousness will be- 
come more and more apparent as American history is better 
understood. Our experience has now so far widened that 
we can see that despotism is not the strongest but wellnigh 
the weakest form of government ; that centralized adminis- 
trations, like that of the Roman empire, have fallen to pieces, 
not because of too much but because of too little freedom ; 
and that the only perdurable government must be that which 
succeeds in achieving national unity on a grand scale, with- 
out weakening the sense of personal and local independence. 
For in the body politic this spirit of freedom is as the red 
corpuscles in the blood ; it carries the life with it. It makes 



20 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

the difference between a society of self-respecting men and 
women and a society of puppets. Your nation may have 
art, poetry, and science, all the refinements of civilized life, 
all the comforts and safeguards that human ingenuity can 
devise ; but if it lose this spirit of personal and local inde- 
pendence, it is doomed and deser\es its doom. As President 
Cleveland has well said, it is not the business of a govern- 
ment to support its people, but of the people to support their 
government ; and once to lose sight of this vital truth is as 
dangerous as to trifle with some stealthy narcotic poison. 
Of the two opposite perils which have perpetually threatened 
the welfare of political society — anarchy on the one hand, 
loss of self-government on the other — Jefferson was right 
in maintaining that the latter is really the more to be dreaded 
because its beginnings are so terribly insidious. Many will 
understand what is meant bv a threat of secession, where 
few take heed of the baneful principle involved in a Texas 
Seed-bill. 

That the American people are still fairly alive to the 
importance of these considerations is due to the weary ages 
of struggle in which our forefathers have manfully contended 
for the right of self-government. From the days of Armin- 
ius and Civilis in the wilds of lower Germany to the days 
of Franklin and Jefferscm in Independence Hall, we have 
been engaged in this struggle, not without some toughening 
of our political fibre, not without some refining of our moral 
sense. Not among our Knglish forefathers only, but among 
all the peoples of medieval and nKxlorn Europe has the 
struggle gone on. with various and instructive results. In 
all parts of romanized Kuroix; invaded and colonized by 
Teutonic tribes, self-government attempted to spring up. 
What may have been the origin of the idea of representation 
we do not know ; like most origins, it seems lost in the 
prehistoric darkness. Wherever we find Teutonic tribes 
settling down over a wide area, we find them holding their 
primary assemblies, usually their annual March-meetings, 
like those in which Mr. Hosea Biglow and others like him 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 21 

have figured. Everywhere, too, we find some attempt at 
representative assemblies, based on the principle 
of the three estates, clergy, nobles, and commons. m^cH-'*^ 
But nowhere save in England does the represent- ^n^^ rTpre- 
ative principle become firmly established, at first tentative 
in county-meetings, afterward in a national parlia- 
ment limiting the powers of the national monarch as the pri- 
mary tribal assembly had limited the powers of the tribal 
chief. It is for this reason that we must call the method 
of nation-making by means of a representative assembly 
the English method. While the idea of representation was 
perhaps the common property of the Teutonic tribes, it 
was only in England that it was successfully put into prac- 
tice and became the dominant political idea. We may there- 
fore agree with Dr. Stubbs that in its political development 
England is the most Teutonic of all European countries, — 
the country which in becoming a great nation has most fully 
preserved the local independence so characteristic of the 
ancient Germans. The reasons for this are complicated, and 
to try to assign them all would needlessly encumber our 
exposition. But there is one that is apparent and extremely 
instructive. There is sometimes a great advantage in being 
able to plant political institutions in a virgin soil, where they 
run no risk of being modified or perhaps metamorphosed 
through contact with rival institutions. In America the 
Teutonic idea has been worked out even more completely 
than in Britain ; and so far as institutions are concerned, our 
English forefathers settled here as in an empty country. 
They were not obliged to modify their political ideas so as 
to bring them into harmony with those of the Indians ; the 
disparity in civilization was so great that the Indians were 
simply thrust aside, along with the wolves and buffaloes. 

This illustration will help us to understand the peculiar 
features of the Teutonic settlement of Britain. Whether 
the English invaders really slew all the romanized Kelts 
who dwelt in the island, except those who found refuge in 
the mountains of Cumberland, Wales, and Cornwall, or fled 



22 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

across the channel to Brittany, we need not seek to decide. 
It is enough to point out one respect in which the Teutonic 
Pecuiurity conquest was immeasurably more complete in Brit- 
oftheTeu- ^in than in any other part of the empire. Every- 
questof where else the tribes who settled upon Roman 
soil — Goths, Vandals, Suevi, and Burgundians — 
were christianized, and so to some extent romanized, before 
they came to take possession. Even the more distant 
Franks had been converted to Christianity before they had 
completed their conquest of Gaul. Everywhere except in 
Britain, therefore, the conquerors had already imbibed Ro- 
man ideas, and the authority of Rome was in a certain sense 
acknowledged. There was no break in the continuity of 
political events. In Britain, on the other hand, there was a 
complete break, so that while on the continent the fifth and 
sixth centuries are seen in the full midday light of history^ 
in Britain they have lapsed into the twilight of half-legendary 
tradition. The Saxon and English tribes, coming from the 
remote wilds of northern Germany, whither Roman mission- 
aries had not yet penetrated, still worshipped Thor and 
Wodan ; and their conquest of Britain was effected with 
such deadly thoroughness that Christianity was destroyed 
there, or lingered only in sequestered nooks. A land once 
christianized thus actually fell back into paganism, so that 
the work of converting it to Christianity had to be done over 
again. From the landing of heathen Hengest on the isle of 
Thanet to the landing of Augustine and his monks on the 
same spot, one hundred and forty-eight years elapsed, during 
which English institutions found time to take deep root in 
British soil with scarcely more interference, as to essential 
points, than in American soil twelve centuries afterward. 

The century and a half between 449 and 597 is therefore 
one of the most important epochs in the history of the 
people that speak the English language. Before settling in 
Britain our forefathers had been tribes in the upper stages 
of barbarism ; now they began the process of coalescence 
into a nation in which the principle of self-government should 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 23 

be retained and developed. The township and its town 
meeting we find there, as later in New England. The 
county meeting we also find, while the county is a little state 
in itself and not a mere administrative district. 
And in this county meeting we may observe a sin- and devei- 
gular feature, something never seen before in the i^^onic 
world, something destined to work out vaster polit- ^^j^^*^"'" 
ical results than Caesar ever dreamed of. This semWyin 
county meeting is not a primary assembly ; all the 
freemen from all the townships cannot leave their homes and 
their daily business to attend it. Nor is it merely an assem- 
bly of notables, attended by the most important men of the 
neighbourhood. It is a representative assembly, attended 
by select men from each township. We may see in it the 
germ of the British parliament and of the American con- 
gress, as indeed of all modern legislative bodies, for it is a 
most suggestive commentary upon what we are saying that 
in all other countries which have legislatures, they have been 
copied, within quite recent times, from English or American 
models. We can seldom if ever fix a date for the beginning 
of anything, and we can by no means fix a date for the begin- 
ning of representative assemblies in England. We can only 
say that where we first find traces of county organization, 
we find traces of representation. Clearly, if the English 
conquerors of Britain had left the framework of Roman 
institutions standing there, as it remained standing in Gaul, 
there would have been great danger of this principle of rep- 
resentation not surviving. It would most likely have been 
crushed in its callow infancy. The conquerors would insen- 
sibly have fallen into the Roman way of doing things, as 
they did in Gaul. 

From the start, then, we find the English nationality grow- 
ing up under very different conditions from those which 
obtained in other parts of Europe. So far as institutions 
are concerned, Teutonism was less modified in England 
than in the German fatherland itself. For the gradual con- 
quest and christianization of Germany which began with 



24 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Charles the Great, and went on until in the thirteenth cen- 
„ . .^. tury the frontier had advanced eastward to the Vis- 

Primitive -' 

Teutonic tula, entailed to a certain extent the romanization 
less modi"^ of Germany. For a thousand years after Charles 
S"hall^ the Great, the political head of Germany was also 
inGer- the political head of the Holy Roman Empire, 
and the civil and criminal code by which the daily 
life of the modern German citizen is regulated is based upon 
the jurisprudence of Rome. Nothing, perhaps, could illus- 
trate more forcibly than this sheer contrast the peculiarly 
Teutonic character of English civilization. Between the 
eighth and the eleventh centuries, when the formation of 
English nationality was approaching completion, it received 
a fresh and powerful infusion of Teutonism in the swarms 
of heathen Northmen or Danes who occupied the eastern 
coasts, struggled long for the supremacy, and gradually be- 
coming christianized, for a moment succeeded in seizing the 
crown. Of the invasion of partially romanized Northmen 
from Normandy which followed soon after, and which has 
so profoundly affected English society and English speech, 
we need notice here but two conspicuous features. First, it 
increased the power of the crown and the clergy, brought all 
England more than ever under one law, and strengthened 
the feeling of nationality. It thus made England a formid- 
able military power, while at the same time it brought her 
into closer relations with continental Europe than she had 
held since the fourth century. Secondly, by superposing a 
new feudal nobility as the upper stratum of society, it trans- 
formed the Old-English thanehood into the finest middle- 
class of rural gentry and yeomanry that has ever existed in 
any country ; a point of especial interest to Americans, since 
it was in this stratum of society that the two most powerful 
streams of English migration to America — the Virginia 
stream and the New England stream — alike had their 
source. 

By the thirteenth century the increasing power and pre- 
tensions of the crown, as the unification of English nation- 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 25 

ality went on, brought about a result unlike anything known 
on the continent of Europe ; it brought about a resistless 
coalition between the great nobles, the rural gentry and yeo- 
manry, and the burghers of the towns, for the purpose of 
curbing royalty, arresting the progress of centralization, and 
setting up representative government on a truly national 
scale. This grand result was partly due to peculiar circum- 
stances which had their origin in the Norman conquest ; 
but it was largely due to the political habits generated by 
long experience of local representative assemblies, — -habits 
which made it comparatively easy for different classes of 




society to find their voice and use it for the attainment of 
ends in common. On the continent of Europe the encroach- 
ing sovereign had to contend with here and there an arrogant 
vassal, here and there a high-spirited and rebellious town; 
in England, in this first great crisis of popular government, 
he found himself confronted by a united people. The fruits 
of the grand combination were first, the wresting of Magna 
Charta from King John in 1215, and secondly, the meeting 



26 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

of the first House of Commons in 1265. Four years of civil 
war were required to secure these noble results. 

The Bar- 

ons'War The Barons' War, of the years 1263 to 1267, was 
firet House ^^ cvcnt of the same order of importance as the 
of Com- Great Rebellion of the seventeenth century and the 

znons , ■' 

American Revolution ; and among the founders of 
that political freedom which is enjoyed to-day by all Eng- 
lish-speaking people, the name of Simon de Montfort, Earl 
of Leicester, deserves a place in our grateful remembrance 
beside the names of Cromwell and Washington. Simon's 
great victory at Lewes in 1264 must rank with Naseby and 
Yorktown. The work begun by his House of Commons 
was the same work that has continued to go on without 
essential interruption down to the days of Cleveland and 
Gladstone. The fundamental principle of political freedom 
is "no taxation without representation" ; you must not take 
a farthing of my money without consulting my wishes as to 
the use that shall be made of it. Only when this principle 
of justice was first practically recognized, did government 
begin to divorce itself from the primitive bestial barbaric 
system of tyranny and plunder, and to ally itself with the 
forces that in the fulness of time are to bring peace on earth 
and good will to men. Of all dates in history, therefore, 
there is none more fit to be commemorated than 1265 ; for 
in that year there was first asserted and applied at West- 
minster, on a national scale, that fundamental principle of 
" no taxation without representation," that innermost kernel 
of the English Idea, which the Stamp Act Congress de- 
fended at New York exactly five hundred years afterward. 
When we think of these dates, by the way, we realize the 
import of the saying that in the sight of the Lord a thousand 
years are but as a day, and we feel that the work of the Lord 
cannot be done by the listless or the slothful. So much 
Eternal time and so much strife by sea and land has it 
th?pri^of taken to secure beyond peradventure the boon to 
liberty mankind for which Earl Simon gave up his noble 
life on the field of Evesham ! Nor without unremitting 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 27 

watchfulness can we be sure that the day of peril is yet past. 
From kings, indeed, we have no more to fear ; they have come 
to be as spooks and bogies of the nursery. But the gravest 
dangers are those which present themselves in new forms, 
against which people's minds have not yet been fortified with 
traditional sentiments and phrases. The inherited predatory 
tendency of men to seize upon the fruits of other people's 
labour is still very strong, and while we have nothing more 
to fear from kings, we may yet have trouble enough from 
commercial monopolies and favoured industries, marching to 
the polls their hordes of bribed retainers. Well indeed has 
it been said that eternal vigilance is the price of liberty. 
God never meant that in this fair but treacherous world in 
which He has placed us we should earn our salvation without 
steadfast labour. 

To return to Earl Simon, we see that it was just in that 
wonderful thirteenth century, when the Roman idea of gov- 
ernment might seem to have been attaining its richest and 
most fruitful development, that the richer and more fruitful 
English idea first became incarnate in the political constitu- 
tion of a great and rapidly growing nation. It was not long 
before the struggle between the Roman Idea and the Eng- 
lish Idea, clothed in various forms, became the 
dominating issue in European history. We have between 
now to obser\^e the rise of modern nationalities, as J^^^d 
new centres of political life, out of the various pro- ^"s^if^ . 

* * , Idea begins 

vinces of the Roman world. In the course of this to become 

fl^iirlv VI SI— 

development the Teutonic representative assembly bie in the 
is at first everywhere discernible, in some form or ^IJjurJ'* 
other, as in the Spanish Cortes or the States-Gen- 
eral of France, but on the continent it generally dies out. 
Only in such nooks as Switzerland and the Netherlands does 
it survive. In the great nations it succumbs before the 
encroachments of the crown. The comparatively novel Teu- 
tonic idea of power delegated by the people to their repre- 
sentatives had not become deeply enough rooted in the 
political soil of the continent ; and accordingly we find it 



28 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

more and more disused and at length almost forgotten, while 
the old and deeply rooted Roman idea of power delegated 
by the governing body to its lieutenants and prefects usurps 
its place. Let us observe some of the most striking features 
of this growth of modern nationalities. 

The reader of mediaeval history cannot fail to be impressed 
by the suddenness with which the culmination of the Holy 
Roman Empire, in the thirteenth century, was followed by 
a swift decline. The imperial position of the Hapsburgs 
was far less splendid than that of the Hohenstauffen ; it 
rapidly became more German and less European, until by 
and by people began to forget what the empire originally 
meant. The change which came over the papacy was even 
more remarkable. The grandchildren of the men who .had 
witnessed the spectacle of a king of France and a king of 
England humbled at the feet of Innocent III., the children 
of the men who had found the gigantic powers of a Fred- 
erick II. unequal to the task of curbing the papacy, now 
beheld the successors of St. Peter carried away to Avignon, 
there to be kept for seventy years under the supervision of 
the kings of France. Henceforth the glory of the papacy 
in its political aspect was to be but the faint shadow of that 
with which it had shone before. This sudden change in its 
position showed that the mediaeval dream of a world-empire 
Growth of ^^^ passing away, and that new powers were com- 
modern na- ing Uppermost in the shape of modern nationalities 
with their national sovereigns. So long as these 
nationalities were in the weakness of their early formation, 
it was possible for pope and emperor to assert, and some- 
times to come near maintaining, universal supremacy. But 
the time was now at hand when kings could assert their 
independence of the pope, while the emperor was fast sink- 
ing to be merely one among kings. 

As modern kingdoms thus grew at the expense of empire 
and papacy above, so they also grew at the expense of feudal 
dukedoms, earldoms, and baronies below. The fourteenth 
and fifteenth centuries were as fatal to feudalism as to world- 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 29 

empire and world-church. A series of wars occurring at 
this time were especially remarkable for the wholesale 
slaughter of the feudal nobility, whether on the field or under 
the headsman's axe. This was a conspicuous feature of the 
feuds of the Trastamare in Spain, of the English invasions 
of France, followed by the quarrel between Burgundians and 
Armagnacs, and of the great war of the Roses in England. 
So thorough-going was the butchery in luigland, for exam- 
ple, that only twenty-nine lay peers could be found to sit in 
the first parliament of Henry VII. in 1485. The old nobil- 
ity was almost annihilated, both in person and in property ; 
for along with the slaughter there went wholesale confisca- 
tion, and this added greatly to the disposable wealth of the 
crown. The case was essentially similar in I^Vance and 
Spain. In all three countries the beginning of the sixteenth 
century saw the power of the crown increased and 

. * . Increasing 

mcreasmg. Its vast accessions of wealth made it power of 
more independent of legislative assemblies, and at 
the same time enabled it to make the baronage more sub- 
servient in character by filling up the vacant places with new 
creations of its own. Through the turbulent history of the 
next two centuries we see the royal power aiming at un- 
checked supremacy and in the principal instances attaining 
it except in luigland. Absolute despotism was reached first 
in Spain, under Philip II. ; in I^'rance it was reached a cen- 
tury later, under Louis XI\^^. ; and at about the same time 
in the hereditary estates of Austria ; while r)ver all the Ital- 
ian and (lerman soil of the disorganized empire, except 
among the glaciers of Switzerland and the dykes of the 
Netherlands, the play of political forces had set up a host of 
petty tyrannies which aped the morals and manners of the 
great autocrats at Paris and Madrid and Vienna. 

As we look back over this growth of modern monarchy, 
we cannot but be struck with the immense practical difficulty 
of creating a strong nationality without sacrificing self-gov- 
ernment. Powerful, indeed, is the tendency toward over- 
centralization, toward stagnation, toward political death. 



30 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Powerful is the tendency to revert to the Roman, if not to 
Formidable the Oriental method. As often as we reflect upon 
th^'k^^n ^^^ general state of things at the end of the seven- 
idea teenth century — the dreadful ignorance and misery 
which prevailed among most of the people of continental 
Europe, and apparently without hope of remedy — so often 
must we be impressed anew with the stupendous signifi- 
cance of the part played by self-governing England in over- 
coming dangers which have threatened the very existence of 
modern civilization. It is not too much to say that in the 
seventeenth century the entire political future of mankind 
was staked upon the questions that were at issue in England. 
To keep the sacred flame of liberty alive required such a 
rare and wonderful concurrence of conditions that, had our 
forefathers then succumbed in the strife, it is hard to imagine 
Had it not how or whcrc the failure could have been repaired, 
^ritalls*^^ Some of these conditions we have already consid- 
poHticai ered ; let us now observe one of the most important 
would of all. Let us note the part played by that most 
Eave^disap- trcmcndous of social forces, the religious sentiment, 
ExTm^fhe ^^ ^^^ relation to the political circumstances which 
world ^e have passed in review. If we ask why it was 
that among modern nations absolute despotism was soonest 
and most completely established in Spain, we find it instruc- 
tive to observe that the circumstances under which the Span-' 
ish monarchy grew up, during centuries of deadly struggle 
with the Mussulman, were such as to enlist the religious 
sentiment on the side of despotic methods in church and 
state. It becomes interesting, then, to observe by contrast 
how it was that in England the dominant religious sentiment 
came to be enlisted on the side of political freedom. 

In such an inquiry we have nothing to do with the truth 
or falsity of any system of doctrines, whether Catholic or 
Protestant. The legitimate purposes of the historian do not 
require him to intrude upon the province of the theologian. 
Our business is to trace the sequence of political cause and 
effect. Nor shall we get much help from crude sweeping 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 31 

generalizations which set forth Catholicism as always the 
enemy and Protestantism as always the ally of human lib- 
erty. The Catholic has a right to be offended at state- 
ments which would involve a Hildebrand or a St. Francis 
in the same historical judgment with a Sigismund or a 
Torquemada. The character of ecclesiastical as of all other 
institutions has varied with the character of the men who 




have worked them and the varying needs of the times and 
places in which they have been worked ; and our intense 
feeling of the gratitude we owe to English Puritanism need 
in nowise diminish the enthusiasm with which we praise the 
glorious work of the media:val church. It is the duty of 
the historian to learn how to limit and qualify his words 



32 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

of blame or approval ; for so curiously is human nature 
compounded of strength and weakness that the best of 
human institutions are likely to be infected with some 
germs of vice or folly. 

Of no human institution is this more true than of the 
great mediaeval church of Gregory and Innocent when 
viewed in the light of its claims to unlimited temporal and 
spiritual sovereignty. In striking down the headship of the 
emperors, it would have reduced Europe to a sort of Ori- 
ental caliphate, had it not been checked by the rising spirit 
of nationality already referred to. But there was 
of^Prote"?-^ another and even mightier agency coming in to 
thc'thir-" ^^^^ ^^^ undue pretensions to absolute sovereignty, 
teenth That samc thirteenth century which witnessed the 

century , •' 

culmination of its power witnessed also the first 
bold and determined manifestation of the Protestant temper 
of revolt against spiritual despotism. It was long before 
this that the earliest Protestant heresy had percolated into 
Europe, having its source, like so many other heresies, in 
that eastern world where the stimulating thought of the 
Greeks busied itself with the ancient theologies of Asia. 
From Armenia in the eighth century came the Manicheean 
sect of Paulicians into Thrace, and for twenty generations 
played a considerable part in the history of the Eastern 
Empire. In the Bulgarian tongue they were known as 
Bogomilians, or men constant in prayer. In Greek they 
The ^vere called Cathari, or " Puritans." They accepted 

PuSs'^of ^^^ ^'^^^ Testament, but set little store by the 
theKastcrn Old; they laughed at transubstantiation, denied 

Empire . , 

any mystical eflficiency to baptism, frowned upon 
image worship as no better than idolatry, despised the inter- 
cession of saints, and condemned the worship of the Virgin 
Mary. As for the symbol of the cross, they scornfully asked, 
*' If any man slew the son of a king with a bit of wood, how 
could this piece of wood be dear to the king ? " Their eccle- 
siastical government was in the main presbyterian, and in 
politics they showed a decided leaning toward democracy. 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 33 

They wore long faces, looked askance at frivolous amuse- 
ments, and were terribly in earnest. Of the more obscure 
pages of mediaeval history, none are fuller of interest than 
those in which we decipher the westward progress of these 
sturdy heretics through the Balkan peninsula into Italy, and 
thence into southern France, where toward the end of the 
twelfth century we find their ideas coming to full blossom 
in the great Albigensian heresy. It was no light affair to 
assault the church in the days of Innocent III. The ter- 
rible crusade against the Albigenses, beginning in ^j^^ 
1207, was the joint work of the most powerful of Albigenses 
popes and one of the most powerful of French kings. On 
the part of Innocent it was the stamping out of a revolt that 
threatened the very existence of the Catholic hierarchy ; on 
the part of Philip Augustus it was the suppression of those 
too independent vassals the Counts of Toulouse, and the 
decisive subjection of the southern provinces to the govern- 
ment at Paris. Nowhere in luiropean history do we read a 
more frightful story than that which tells of the blazing fires 
which consumed thousand after thousand of the most intel- 
ligent and thrifty people in France. It was now that the 
Holy Inquisition came into existence, and after forty years 
of slaughter these Albigensian Cathari or Puritans seemed 
exterminated. The practice of burning heretics, first enacted 
by statute in Aragon in 1197, was adopted in most parts of 
Europe during the thirteenth century, but in England not 
until the beginning of the fifteenth. The Inquisition was 
never established in England. luhvard II. attempted to 
introduce it in 131 1 for the purpose of suppressing the 
Templars, but his utter failure showed that the instinct of 
self-government was too strong in the Plnglish people to 
tolerate the entrusting of so much power over men's lives 
to agents of the papacy. Mediaeval England was ignorant 
and bigoted enough, but under a representative government 
which so strongly permeated society, it was impossible to 
set the machinery of repression to work with such deadly 
thoroughness as it worked under the guidance of Roman 



34 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

methods. When we read the history of persecution in 
England, the story in itself is dreadful enough ; but when 
we compare it with the horrors enacted in other countries, 
we arrive at some startling results. During the two centu- 
ries of English persecution, from Henry IV. to James I., 
some 400 persons were burned at the stake, and three fourths 
of these cases occurred in 1555-57, ^^e last three years of 
Mary Tudor. Now in a single province of Spain, in the 
single year 1482, about 2000 persons were burned. The 
lowest estimates of the number slain for heresy in the Neth- 
erlands in the course of the sixteenth century place it at 
75,000. Very likely such figures are in many cases grossly 
exaggerated. But after making due allowance for this, the 
contrast is sufficiently impressive. In England the 
persecu- persecution of heretics was feeble and spasmodic, 
feebleness and Only at one moment rose to anything like the 
in England appalling vigour which ordinarily characterized it 
in countries where the Inquisition was firmly established. 
Now among the victims of religious persecution must neces- 
sarily be found an unusual proportion of men and women 
more independent than the average in their thinking, and 
more bold than the average in uttering their thoughts. The 
Inquisition was a diabolical winnowing machine for removing 
from society the most flexible minds and the stoutest hearts ; 
and among every people in which it was established for a 
length of time it wrought serious damage to the national 
character. It ruined the fair promise of Spain, and inflicted 
incalculable detriment upon the fortunes of France. No 
nation could afford to deprive itself of such a valuable ele- 
ment in its political life as was furnished in the thirteenth 
century by the intelligent and sturdy Cathari of southern 
Gaul. 

The spirit of revolt against the hierarchy, though broken 
and repressed thus terribly by the measures of Innocent 
III., continued to live on obscurely in sequestered spots, in 
the mountains of Savoy, and Bosnia, and Bohemia, ready 
on occasion to spring into fresh and vigorous life. In the 



THE KOMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IIJEA 35 

following century Protestant ideas were rapidly germinating 
in England, alike in baron's castle, in yeoman's farmstead, 
in citizen's shop, in the cloistered walks of the monastery. 
Henry Knighton, writing in the time of Richard 1 1., declares, 
with the exaggeration of impatience, that every second man 
you met was a Lollard, or "babbler,'" for such was the 
nickname given to these free-thinkers, of whom the most 




eminent was John W'j'clif, professor at Oxford, and rector of 
Lutterworth, greatest scholar of the age. The career of this 
man is a striking commentary upon the difference 
between England and continental Europe in the miuhe 
Middle Ages. Wyclif denied t ran substantial ion, 
disapproved of auricular confession, o])p()sed the payment of 
Peter's pence, taught that kings should not be subject to 
prelates, translated the Bible into English and circulated it 
among the peo|)le, and even denounced the reigning pope 



36 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

as Antichrist ; he could do all this and live, because there 
was as yet no act of parliament for the burning of heretics, 
and in England things must be done according to the laws 
which the people had made.^ Pope Gregory XL issued five 
bulls against him, addressed to the king, the archbishop of 
Canterbury, and the university of Oxford ; but their dicta- 
torial tone offended the national feeling, and no heed was 
paid to them. Seventeen years after Wyclif*s death, the 
statute for burning heretics was passed, and the persecution 
of Lollards began. It was feeble and ineffectual, however. 
LoUardism was never trampled out in England as Catharism 
was trampled out in France. Tracts of Wyclif and passages 
from his translation of the Bible were copied by hand and 
secretly passed about to be read on Sundays in the manor- 
house, or by the cottage fireside after the day's toil was 
over. The work went on quietly, but not the less effectively, 
until when the papal authority was defied by Henry VIII., 
it soon became apparent that England was half-Protestant 
already. It then appeared also that in this Reformation 
there were two forces cooperating, — the sentiment of na- 
tional independence which would not brook dictation from 
Rome, and the Puritan sentiment of revolt against the 
hierarchy in general. The first sentiment had found expres- 
sion again and again in refusals to pay tribute to Rome, in 
defiance of papal bulls, and in the famous statutes of prcenm- 
uire, which made it a criminal offence to acknowledge any 
authority in England higher than the crown. The revolt of 
Henry VIII. was simply the carrying out of these 
charad^r acts of Ed Ward I. and Edward III. to their logical 
viii^'s7c- conclusion. It completed the detachment of Eng- 
voit against j^nd from the Holy Roman ICmpirc, and made her 

Rome 

free of all the world. Its intent was political rather 
than religious. Henry, who wrote against Martin Luther, 
was far from wishing to make England a Protestant country, 
l^lizabeth, who differed from her father in not caring a straw 
for theology, was by temperament and policy conservative. 

^ Milman, Lat. Christ, vii. 395. 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 37 

Yet England could not cease to be Papist without ceasing in 
some measure to be Catholic ; nor could she in that day 
carry on war against Spain without becoming a leading 




champion of Protestantism. The changes in creed and ritual 
wrought by the government during this period were cautious 
and skilful ; and the resulting church of England, with its 
long line of learned and liberal divines has played a noble 
part in history. 

But along with this moderate Protestantism espoused by 



>s THK BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

the luiglish government, as consequent upon the assertion 
of luiglish national independence, there grew up the fierce 
uncompromising democratic Protestantism of which the 
persecuted Lollards had sown the seeds. This was not the 
work of government. By the side of Henry VIII. stands the 
iht, sublime figure of Hugh Latimer, most dauntless 

ihiljiT"* ^^ preachers, the one man before whose stern re- 
latiiner bukc thc hcadstrong and masterful Tudor monarch 
(|uailed. It was Latimer that renewed the work of Wyclif, 
and in his life as well as in his martydom — to use his own 
words of good cheer uttered while the fagots were kindling 
around him — lighted " such a candle in England as by 
(iod's grace shall never be put out." This indomitable man 
belonged to that middle-class of self-governing, self-respect- 
ing yeomanry that has been the glory of free England and 
free America. He was one of the sturdy race that over- 
threw French chivalry at Cr^cy and twice drove the soldiery 
of a tyrant down the slope of Bunker Hill. In boyhood 
he worked on his father's farm and helped his mother to 
milk the thirty kine ; he practised archery on the village 
green, studied in the village school, went to Cambridge, and 
became the foremost preacher of Christendom. Now the 
most thorough and radical work of the English Reformation 
was done by this class of men of which Latimer was the 
type. It was work that was national in its scope, arousing 
to fervent heat the strong religious and moral sentiment of 
the people, and hence it soon quite outran the cautious and 
conservative policy of the government, and tended to intro- 
duce changes extremely distasteful to those who wished to 
keep England as nearly Catholic as was consistent with in- 
dependence of the pope. Hence before the end of Eliza- 
beth's reign, we find the crown set almost as strongly against 
Puritanism as against Romanism. Hence, too, when under 
Elizabeth's successors the great decisive struggle between 
despotism and liberty was inaugurated, we find all the tre- 
mendous force of this newly awakened religious enthusiasm 
cooperating with the English love of self-government and 




^ ^^*^:^_j:::> 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 39 

carrying it under Cromwell to victory. From this fortunate 
alliance of religious and political forces has come all the 
noble and fruitful work of the last two centuries 
in which men of English speech have been labour- ment of 
ing for the political regeneration of mankind. But tHumph 
for this alliance of forces, it is quite possible that m^st^criti- 
the fateful seventeenth century might have seen fai moment 

J ^ . »n history 

despotism triumphant in England as on the conti- 
nent of Europe, and the progress of civilization indefinitely 
arrested. 

In illustration of this possibility, observe what happened 
in France at the very time when the victorious English ten- 
dencies were shaping themselves in the reign of Elizabeth. 
In France there was a strong Protestant movement, but it 
had no such independent middle-class to support it as that 
which existed in England ; nor had it been able to profit by 
such indispensable preliminary work as that which Wyclif 
had done; the horrible slaughter of the Albigenses had de- 
prived France of the very people who might have played a 
part in some way analogous to that of the Lollards. 
Consequently the Protestant movement in France with 
failed to become a national movement. Against the fatc"o?the 
wretched Henry III. who would have temporized *i"g"e- 
with it, and the gallant Henry IV. who honestly 
espoused it, the oppressed peasantry and townsmen made 
common cause by enlisting under the banner of the ultra- 
Catholic Guises. The mass of the people saw nothing in 
Protestantism but an idea favoured by the aristocracy and 
which they could not comprehend. Hence the great king 
who would have been glad to make PYance a Protestant 
country could only obtain his crown by renouncing his reli- 
gion, while seeking to protect it by his memorable Edict of 
Nantes. But what a generous despot could grant, a bigoted 
despot might revoke ; and before another century had 
elapsed, the good work done by Henry IV. was undone by 
Louis XIV., the Edict of Nantes was set aside, the process 
of casting out the most valuable political element in the 




40 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

community was carried to completion, and seven per cent, of 
the population of France was driven away and added to the 
Protestant populations of northern Germany and England 




and America. The gain to these coimtries and the dam- 
age to France was far greater than the mere figures would 
imply ; for in determining the character of a community a 
hundred selected men and women are more potent than 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 41 

• 

a thousand men and women taken at random. Thus while 
the Reformation in France reinforced to some extent the 
noble army of freemen, its triumphs were not to be the tri- 
umphs of Frenchmen, but of the race which has known how 
to enlist under its banner the forces that fight for free 
thought, free speech, and self-government, and all that these 
phrases imply. 

In view of these facts wc may see how tremendous was 
the question at stake with the Puritans of the seventeenth 
century. Everywhere else the Roman idea seemed to have 
conquered or to be conquering, while they seemed to be left 
as the forlorn hope of the human race. J^ut from the very day 
when Oliver Cromwell reached fortli his mighty arm to stop 
the persecutions in Savoy, the victorious I^nglish idea began 
to change the face of thinii^s. The next centurv ,.. 

... ^ ' \ ictory of 

saw William Pitt allied with Frederick of Prussia to the Kng- 
save the work of the Reformation in central luirope 
and set in motion the train of events that were at last to 
make the people of the Teutonic fatherland a nation. At 
that same moment the keenest minds in l^Vance were awak- 
ing to the fact that in their immediate neighl)ourhood, 
separated from them only by a few miles of salt water, was 
a country where people were equal in the eye of the law. It 
was the ideas of Locke and Milton, of Vane and Sidney, 
that, when transplanted into French soil, produced that vio- 
lent but salutary Revolution which has given fresh life to 
the European world. And contemporaneously with all this, 
the American nation came upon the scene, equipped as no 
other nation had ever been, for the task of combining sov- 
ereignty with liberty, indestructible union of the whole with 
indestructible life in the parts. The lOnglish idea has thus 
come to be more than national, it has become imperial. It 
has come to rule, and it has come to stay. 

We are now in a position to answer the question when 
the Roman Empire came to an end, in so far as it can be 
answered at all. It did not come to its end at the hands of 
an Odovakar in the year 476, or of a Mahomet II. in 1453, or 




42 THE BEGINNINGS OK NEW ENGLAND 

of a Napoleon in 1806. It has been coming to its end as the 
Roman idea of nation-making has been at length decisively 
overcome by the English idea. For such a fact it is impos- 
sible to assign a date, because it is not an event but a stage 
in the endless procession of events. But we can point to 




landmarks on the way. Of movements significant and pro- 
phetic there have been many. The whole course of the 
Protestant reformation, from the thirteenth century to the 
nineteenth, is coincident with the transfer of the world's 
political centre of gravity from the Tiber and the Rhine to 
the Thames and the Mississippi. The whole career of the 
men who speak English has within this period been the mo.st 



THE ROMAN IDEA AND THE ENGLISH IDEA 43 

potent agency in this transfer. In these gigantic pRKesses 
of evolution we cannut mark beginnings or endings by 
years, hardly even by centuries. But among the significant 
events which prophesied the final triumph of the English 
over the Roman idea, perhaps the most signifi- si<jnin- 
cant — the one which marks most incisively the ^nian^*'*^ 
dawning of a new era — was the migration of Eng- E'^^^"* 
lish Puritans across the Atlantic Ocean, to repeat in a new- 
environment and on a grander scale of dimensions the work 
which their forefathers had wrought in Britain. The voy- 
age of the Mayflower was not in itself the greatest event 
in this migratirin ; but it ser\es to mark the era, and it is 
only when we study it in the mood awakened by the general 
considerations here set forth that we can properly estimate 
the historic importance of the great Puritan Exodus. 



CHAPTER !I 



THE PURITAN EXODUS 

In the preceding chapter I endeavoured to set forth and 
illustrate some of the chief causes which have shifted the 
world's political centre of gravity from the Mediterranean 
and the Rhine to the 
Atlantic and the Mis- 
sissippi ; from the 
men who spoke Latin 
to the men who speak 
English. In the 
course of the expo- 
sition we began to 
catch glimpses of 
the wonderful signifi- 
cance of the fact that 

— among the people 
who had first sug- 
gested the true solu- 
tion of the difficult 
problem of making 
a powerful nation 
without sacrificing 
local self-government 

— when the supreme 
day of trial came, the 
dominant religious 
sentiment was ar- 
rayed on the side of political freedom and against political 
despotism. If we consider merely the territorial area which 
it covered, or the numbers of men slain in its battles, the war 
of the English parliament against Charles I. seems a trivial 




5>5y^W?. 



THE I'URITAN EXODUS 45 

affair when contrasted with the gigantic but comparatively 
insignificant work of barbarians like Jinghis or Tamerlane. 
But if wc consider the moral and political issues involved, and 
the influence of the struggle upon the future welfare of man- 
kind, we soon come to see that there never was a ,nfl„njg 
conflict of more world-wide importance than that ?' Puriun- 
from which Oliver Cromwell came out victorious, modern 
It shattered the monarchical power in England at ""'^' 
a time when monarchical power was bearing down all oppo- 
sition in the other great countries of Europe. It decided 
that government by the people and for the people should not 
then perish from the 
earth. It placed free 
England in a position 
of such moral advan- 
tage that within an- 
other century the Eng- 
lish Idea of political 
life was able to react 
most powerfully upon 
continental Europe. It 
was the study of Eng- 
lish institutions by such 
men as Montesquieu 
and Turgot, Voltaire 
and Rousseau, that 
gave shape and direc- 
tion to the French Re- 
volution. That violent 
but wholesome clearing 
of the air, that tremen- 
dous political and moral 

awakening, which ushered in the nineteenth century in Eu- 
rope, had its sources in the spirit which animated the preach- 
ing of Latimer, the song of Milton, the solemn imagery of 
Bunyan, the political treatises of Locke and Sidney, the po- 
litical measures of Hampden and Pym. The noblest type of 




y^^'-^n—r^ 



46 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

modern European statesmanship, as represented by Mazzinl 
and Stein, is the spiritual offspring of seventeenth-century 
Puritanism. To speak of Naseby and Marston Moor as 
merely English victories would be as absurd as to restrict 
the significance of Gettysburg to the state of Pennsylvania, 
If ever there were men who laid down their lives in the 
cause of all mankind, it was those grim old Ironsides whose 
watchwords were texts from Holy Writ, whose battle-cries 
were hymns of praise. 

It was to this unwonted alliance of intense religious enthu- 
siasm with the instinct of self-government and the spirit of 
personal independence that the preservation of English free- 
dom was due. When James I. ascended the English throne, 
the forces which prepared the Puritan revolt had been 
slowly and quietly gathering strength among the people for 
at least two centuries. The work which Wyclif had begun 
in the fourteenth century had continued to go on in spite of 
occasional spasmodic attempts to destroy it with the aid of 
the statute passed in 1401 for the burning of heretics. The 
Lollards can hardly be said at any time to have constituted 
a sect, marked off from the established church by the posses- 
sion of a system of doctrines held in common. The name 
by which they were known was a nickname which might 
cover almost any amount of diversity in opinion, 
of the like the modern epithets "free-thinker" and "ag- 

nostic." The feature which characterized the Lol- 
lards in common was a bold spirit of inquiry which led 
them, in spite of persecution, to read Wyclif's English Bible 
and call in question such dogmas and rites of the church as 
did not seem to find warrant in the sacred text. Clad in 
long robes of coarse red wool, barefoot, with pilgrim's staff 
in hand, the Lollard preachers fared to and fro among the 
quaint Gothic towns and shaded hamlets, setting forth the 
word of God wherever they could find listeners, now in 
the parish church or under the vaulted roof of the cathe- 
dral, now in the churchyard or market-place, or on some 
green hillside. During the fifteenth century persecution did 



48 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

much to check this open preaching, but passages from Wy- 
clif's tracts and texts from the Bible were copied by hand 
and passed about among tradesmen and artisans, yeomen 
and plough-boys, to be pondered over and talked about and 
learned by heart. It was a new- revelation to the English 
people, this discovery of the Bible. Christ and his disciples 
seemed to come very near when the beautiful story of the 
gospels was first read in the familiar speech of every-day 
life. Heretofore they might well have seemed remote and 
unreal, just as the school-boy hardly realizes that the Cato 
and Cassius over whom he puzzles in his Latin lessons were 
once living men like his father and neighbours, and not mere 
nominatives governing a verb, or ablatives of means or in- 
strument. Now it became possible for the layman to con- 
trast the pure teachings of Christ with the doctrines and 
demeanour of the priests and monks to whom the spiritual 
guidance of Englishmen had been entrusted. Strong and 
self-respecting men and women, accustomed to manage their 
own affairs, could not but be profoundly affected by the 
contrast. 

While they were thus led more and more to appeal to the 
Bible as the divine standard of right living and right think- 
ing, at the same time they found in the sacred volume the 
treasures of a most original and noble literature unrolled 
before them ; stirring history and romantic legend, cosmical 
theories and priestly injunctions, profound metaphysics and 
pithy proverbs, psalms of unrivalled grandeur and pastorals 
of exquisite loveliness, parables fraught with solemn mean- 
ing, the mournful wisdom of the preacher, the exultant faith 
of the apostle, the matchless eloquence of Job and Isaiah, 
the apocalyptic ecstasy of St. John. At a time when there 
was as yet no English literature for the common people, this 
untold wealth of Hebrew literature was implanted in the 
English mind as in a virgin soil. Great consequences have 
flowed from the fact that the first truly popular literature in 
England — the first which stirred the hearts of all classes of 
people, and filled their minds with ideal pictures and their 



THE PURITAN EXODUS 49 

every-day speech with apt and telling phrases — was the 
literature comprised within the Bible. The supe- The 
riority of the common English version of the Bible, ^"fjon of 
made in the reign of James I., over all other ver- ^^^ *^»^*« 
sions, is a fact generally admitted by competent critics. The 
sonorous Latin of the Vulgate is very grand, but in sublimity 
of fervour as in the unconscious simplicity of strength it is 
surpassed by the English version, which is scarcely if at all 
inferior to the original, while it remains to-day, and will long 
remain, the noblest monument of luiglish speech. The rea- 
son for this is obvious. The common English version of the 
Bible was made by men who were not aiming at literary ef- 
fect, but simply gave natural expression to the feelings which 
for several generations had clustered around the sacred text. 
They spoke with the voice of a people, which is more than 
the voice of the most highly gifted man. They spoke with 
the voice of a people to whom the Bible had come to mean 
all that it meant to the men who wrote it. To the ICnglish- 
men who listened to Latimer, to the Scotchmen who listened 
to Knox, the Bible more than filled the place which in mod- 
em times is filled by poem and essay, by novel and newspaper 
and scientific treatise. To its pages they went for daily in- 
struction and comfort, with its strange Semitic names they 
baptized their children, upon its prece])ts, too often misun- 
derstood and misapplied, they sought to build up a rule of 
life that might raise them above the crude and unsatisfying 
world into which they were born. 

It would be wrong to accredit all this awakening of spirit- 
ual life in England to Wyclif and the Lollards, for it was only 
after the Bible, in the translations of Tyndall and Coverdale, 
had been made free to the whole English people in the reign 
of Edward VT. that its significance began to be apparent ; 
and it was only a century later, in the time of Cromwell and 
Milton, that its full fruition was reached. It was with the 
Lollards, however, that the spiritual awakening began and 
was continued until its effects, when they came, were marked 
by surprising maturity and suddenness, l^ecause the Lol- 




50 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

lards were not a clearly defined sect, it was hard to trace the 
manifold ramifications of their work. During the terrible 
Wars of the Roses, contemporary chroniclers had little or 
nothing to say about the labours of these humble men, which 
seemed of less importance than now, when we read them in 
the light of their world-wide results. From this silence some 
modern historians have carelessly inferred that the nascent 
Protestantism of the Lollards had been extinguished by per- 
secution under the Lancastrian kings, and was in no wise 
continuous with modern English Protestantism. Nothing 
could be more erroneous. The extent to which the Lollard 
leaven had permeated all classes of English society was first 
clearly revealed when Henry VIIL made his domestic affairs 
the occasion for a revolt against the Papacy. Despot and 
brute as he was in many ways, Henry had some characteris- 
tics which enabled him to get on well with his people. He 
not only represented the sentiment of national independence, 
but he had a truly English reverence for the forms of law. 
In his worst acts he relied upon the support of his Parlia- 
ment, which he might in various ways cajole or 
Henry pack, but could not really enslave. In his quarrel 
swifts^uc- with Rome he could have achieved but little, had 
^oit"^** he not happened to strike a chord of feeling to 
apinst which the l^nglish people, trained by this slow and 
subtle work of the Lollards, responded quickly 
and with a vehemence upon which he had not reckoned. As 
if by magic, the fabric of Romanism was broken to pieces 
in England, monasteries were suppressed and their abbots 
hanged, the authority of the Pope was swept away, and there 
was no powerful party, like that of the Guises in France, to 
make such sweeping measures the occasion for civil war. 
The whole secret of Henry's swift success lay in the fact 
that the English people were already more than half Protest- 
ant in temper, and needed only an occasion for declaring 
themselves. Hence, as soon as Catholic Henry died, his 
youthful son found himself seated on the throne of a Pro- 
testant nation. The terrible but feeble persecution which 




T9^-*ti ^a^tu4y . 



THE PURITAN EXODUS 51 

followed under Mary did much to strengthen the extreme 
Protestant sentiment by allying it with the outraged feeling 
of national independence. The bloody work of Effg^tsof 
the grand-daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, the the perse- 
doting wife of Philip II., was rightly felt to be under 
Spanish work ; and never, perhaps, did England ^^ 
feel such a sense of relief as on the auspicious day which 
welcomed to the throne the great Elizabeth, an English- 
woman in every fibre, and whose mother withal was the 
daughter of a plain country gentleman. But the Marian 
persecution not only increased the strength of the extreme 
Protestant sentiment, but indirectly it supplied it with that 
Calvinistic theology which was to make it indomitable. Of 
the hundreds of ministers and laymen who fled from lingland 
in 1555 and the two following years, a great part found 
their way to Geneva, and thus came under the immediate 
personal influence of that man of iron who taught the very 
doctrines for which their souls were craving, and who was 
then at the zenith of his power. 

Among all the great benefactors of mankind the figure of 
Calvin is perhaps the least attractive. He was, so to speak, 
the constitutional lawyer of the Reformation, with vision as 
clear, with head as cool, with soul as dry, as any old solicitor 
in rusty black that ever dwelt in chambers in Lincoln's Inn. 
His sternness was that of the judge who dooms a criminal 
to the gallows. His theology had much in it that is in strik- 
ing harmony with modern scientific philosophy, and much in 
it, too, that the descendants of his Puritan converts have 
learned to loathe as sheer diabolism. It is hard for us to 
forgive the man who burned Michael Ser\'etus, even though 
it was the custom of the time to do such things and the 
tender-hearted Melanchthon found nothing to blame in it. 
It is not easy to speak of Calvin with enthusiasm, as it 
comes natural to speak of the genial, whole-souled, many- 
sided, mirth-and-.song-loving Luther. Nevertheless it would 
be hard to overrate the debt which mankind owe to Calvin. 
The spiritual father of Coligny, of William the Silent, and 



f 

I 



52 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

of Cromwell must occupy a foremost rank among the cham- 
pions of modern democracy. Perhaps not one of the medi- 
aeval popes was more despotic in temper than Calvin ; but 
Calvin's it is uot the less true that the promulgation of his 
itTpoifuwi theology was one of the longest steps that mankind 
bearings have taken toward personal freedom. Calvinism 
left the individual man alone in the presence of his God. 
His salvation could not be wrought by priestly ritual, 
but only by the grace of God abounding in his soul ; and 
wretched creature that he felt himself to be, through the 
intense moral awakening of which this stern theology was 
in part the expression, his soul was nevertheless of infinite 
value, and the possession of it was the subject of an ever- 
lasting struggle between the powers of heaven and the 
powers of hell. In presence of the awful responsibility of 
life, all distinctions of rank and fortune vanished ; prince 
and pauper were alike the helpless creatures of Jehovah and 
suppliants for his grace. Calvin did not originate these doc- 
trines ; in announcing them he was but setting forth, as he 
said, the Institutes of the Christian religion ; but in empha- 
sizing this aspect of Christianity, in engraving it upon men's 
minds with that keen-edged logic which he used with such 
unrivalled skill, Calvin made them feel, as it had perhaps 
never been felt before, the dignity and importance of the 
individual human soul. It was a religion fit to inspire men 
who were to be called upon to fight for freedom, whether in 
the marshes of the Netherlands or on the moors of Scotland. 
In a church, moreover, based upon such a theology there 
was no room for prelacy. Each single church tended to 
become an independent congregation of worshippers, con- 
stituting one of the most effective schools that has ever 
existed for training men in local self-government. 

When, therefore, upon the news of Elizabeth's accession 
to the throne, the Protestant refugees made their way back 
to England, they came as Calvinistic Puritans. Their stay 
upon the Continent had been short, but it had been just 
enough to put the finishing touch uix)n the work that had 



54 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

been going on since the days of Wyclif. Upon such men 
and their theories Elizabeth could not look with favour. 
With all her father's despotic temper, Elizabeth possessed 
her mother's fine tact, and she represented so grandly the 
feeling of the nation in its life-and-death-struggle with Spain 
and the pope, that never perhaps in English history has the 
crown wielded so much real power as during the five-and- 
forty years of her wonderful reign. One day Elizabeth 
asked a lady of the court how she contrived to retain her 
husband's affection. The lady replied that " she had confi- 
dence in her husband's understanding and courage, well 
founded on her own steadfastness not to offend or thwart, 
but to cherish and obey, whereby she did persuade her hus- 
band of her own affection, and in so doing did command 
his." " Go to, go to, mistress," cried the queen. " You are 
wisely bent, I find. After such sort do I keep the good will 
of all my husbands, my good people ; for if they did not rest 
assured of some special love towards them, they would not 
readily yield me such good obedience.*' ^ 

Such a theory of government might work well in the hands 
^,. , ^, of an Elizabeth, and in the circumstances in which 

Elizabeth s 

poUcy, and England was then placed ; but it could hardly be 
worked by a successor. The seeds of revolt were 
already sown. The disposition to curb the sovereign was 
growing and would surely assert itself as soon as it should 
have some person less loved and respected than Elizabeth to 
deal with. The queen in some measure foresaw this, and in 
the dogged independence and uncompromising enthusiasm 
of the Puritans she recognized the rock on which monarchy 
might dash itself into pieces. She therefore hated the Puri- 
tans, and persecuted them zealously with one hand, while 
circumstances forced her in spite of herself to aid and abet 
them with the other. She could not maintain herself against 
Spain without helping the Dutch and the Huguenots ; but 
every soldier she sent across the channel came back, if he 
came at all, with his head full of the doctrines of Calvin j 

' Gardiner, The Puritan Re^'olution^ p. 1 2. 



THE PIRITAN EXOPIS 




and these stalwiirt cunveils wlti; rciniorccd by the refiit;ces 
from Fnince and the Xt-thcTlands whu came Hockinj; into 
Kn<;lish towns tu set up their thrifty shops and huhi prayer- 
moctings in their humble chapels. To gnard the kinf^dom 



56 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

against the intrigues of Philip and the Guises and the Queen 
of Scots, it was necessary to choose the most zealous Pro- 
testants for the most responsible positions, and such men 
were more than likely to be Calvinists and Puritans. Eliza- 
beth's great ministers, Burghley, Walsingham, and Nicholas 
Bacon, were inclined toward Puritanism ; and so were the 
naval heroes who won the most fruitful victories of that cen- 
tury, by shattering the maritime power of Spain and thus 
opening the way for Englishmen to colonize North America. 
If we would realize the dangers that would have beset the 
Mayflower and her successors but for the preparatory work 
of these immortal sailors, we must remember the dreadful 
fate of Ribault and his Huguenot followers in Florida, 
twenty-three years before that most happy and glorious 
event, the destruction of the Spanish Armada. But not 
even the devoted men and women who held their prayer- 
meetings in the Mayflower's cabin were more constant in 
Puritan prayer or more assiduous in reading the Bible than 
sea-rovers ^j^^ dauntless rovcrs, Drake and Hawkins, Gilbert 
and Cavendish. In the church itself, too, the Puritan spirit 
grew until in 1575-83 it seized upon Grindal, archbishop of 
Canterbury, who incurred the queen's disfavour by refusing 
to meddle with the troublesome reformers or to suppress 
their prophesyings. By the end of the century the majority 
of country gentlemen and of wealthy merchants in the towns 
had bec6me Puritans, and the new views had made great 
headway in both universities, while at Cambridge they had 
become dominant. 

This allusion to the universities may serv^e to introduce 
the very interesting topic of the geographical distribution of 
Puritanism in England. No one can study the history of the 
two universities without being impressed with the greater 
conservatism of Oxford, and the greater hospitality of Cam- 
bridge toward new ideas. Possibly the explanation may 
have some connection with the situation of Cambridge upon 
the East Anglian border. The eastern counties of England 
have often been remarked as rife in heresy and independ- 



THK PURITAN EXODUS 57 

ency. For many generations the coast region between the 
Thames and the liumbcr was a veritable litns hicrcticum} 
Longland, bishop of Lincohi in 1520, reported Lollardisni as 
especially vigorous and obstinate in his diocese, where more 
than two hundred heretics were once brought before him in 
the course of a single visitation. It was in Lincolnshire, 
Norfolk, Suffolk, and I^sscx, and among the fens of Kly, 
Cambridge, and Huntingdon, that Puritanism was strongest 
at the end of the sixteenth century. It was as ^3 ., . 

J Puritanism 

member and leading s])irit of the P2astern Counties wasstrong- 
Association that ( )li\er Cromwell began his military easu-m 

1 • r 4.1 4.1 • counties 

career ; and ui so far as there was anythmg sec- 
tional in the struggle between Charles I. and the Long Par- 
liament, it was a struggle which ended in the victory of east 
over west. Last Anglia was from first to last the one region 
in which the supremacy of Parliament was unquestionable 
and impregnable, even after the strength of its pojnilation 
had been diminished by sending some thousands of picked 
men and women to America. While every one of the forty 
counties of luigland was represented in the great Puritan 
exodus, the r^ast Anglian counties contributed to it far more 
than all the rest. Perhaps it would not be far out of the 
way to say that two thirds of the American people who can 
trace their ancestry to New England might follow it back to 
the East Anglian shires of the mother-country ; one sixth 
might follow it to those .southwestern counties — Devon- 
shire, Dorset, and Somerset — which so long were foremost 
in maritime enterprise ; one sixth to other parts of 
England. I would not insist upon the exactness nncrof ^^' 
of such figures, in a matter where only a rough j^V^a^in^tlie 
approximation is possible ; but I do not think they ^^"[d^"^ 
overstate the T^ast Anglian preponderance. It was 
not by accident that the earliest counties of Massachusetts 

^ In my forthcoming book, "The Dutch and Quaker Colonies in 
America," I hope to prove that this was due to the close and long- 
continued intercourse between the eastern counties and the Nether- 
lands. 



vV KNciLAND 



.Vs. 



- >^o.\. or that Bi>stnn in 
' CL city of New Kn^^land. 
...•»'*vichu>ctts whn wamlcrs 
*\irr -'t it st» homelike as 
-* .r'll L[uainl market towns 
-:--i:i^lit a line from I])swieh 
•• '':-i>i\e features remind 
■' ::x' Nii;n-hoards over the 
■. virv.iiiar l»Mik. In manv 
^-i ri^velatliers left, when 
: > America, is still to he 
•-■•e ancient manor-iiouse 
• .■■ ••• I'lher res])ects mncli 
\\::h its lonL^ >lo])inLC Vin)i 
, 1^ staircase with twisted 
•A entry- way, its low ceil- 
••^. i:^ spacious chimnevs, 
■'\ 'i i'ue mi^dit ha\e looked 
•\\ II 1 1 I\'. h'om Raven spur 
■ • .!a\s when .America was 
\- tMii^h church which has 
-. N. pl.dn enough and bleak 
•- N-v-tne^t Puritan, one mav 
■v N ^n\u name and the names 
. ' stiitliiiL;" proximitv, some- 
. .".I't'.Iv'.NS leet that have trod- 
■• \ i.'.c .L^ieen one comes with 
.% • pi ion which tell.s «»f >ome 

• l's" i'\il rei,L;n of ^^a^y >uf- 
'• •. v»ui interesting; journev, 

. \''!a:;es i^i Austertiekl and 

• •.• 'i!l!e livers Ryl<.)n and 

• v\' nIkic^ i^\ Lincoln, York, 
•■ . Pi'! ■hl»ou!h-)od that the 



\ \ 



.'. ' V am oi i'urilain'sm. i)Ut 
• *M-. wo: M-lami«n> move- 



THE PURITAN EXODUS 



59 



ment originated. During the reign of I^lizabeth it was not 
the purpose of the Puritans to separate themselves from 
the established church of which the sovereign was the head, 
but to remain within it and reform it according to their own 
notions. For a time they were partially successful in this 



-^/^t^ 
-J^^ 



HarworQi 
tt 




SCROOKY AM) AUSTURFIKLD 



work, especially in simplifying the ritual and in giving a 
Calvinistic tinge to the doctrines. In doing this they showed 
no conscious tendency toward freedom of thought, but rather 
a bigotry quite as intense as that which animated the system 
against which they were fighting. The most ad- puritanism 
vanced liberalism of IClizabeth's time was not to be was not in- 
found among the Puritans, but in the magnificent allied with 
treatise on " l^:cclesiastical Polity " by the church- ^^'^''''' 
man Richard Hooker. But the liberalism of this great 
writer, like that of ICrasmus a century earlier, was not mili- 
tant enough to meet the sterner demands of the time. It 
could not then ally itself with the democratic spirit, as Puri- 




6o 



THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 



tanism did. It has been well said that while Luther was the 
prophet of the Reformation that has been, Erasmus was the 
prophet of the Reformation that is to come, and so it was 
to some extent with the Puritans and Hooker. The Puritan 
fight against the hierarchy was a political necessity of the 
time, something without which no real and thorough refor- 
mation could then be effected. In her antipathy to this 
democratic movement, Elizabeth vexed and tormented the 
Puritans as far as she deemed it prudent ; and in the con- 
servative temper of the people she found enough support 
to prevent their transforming the church as they would 
have liked to do. Among the Puritans themselves, indeed, 
there was no definite 
agreement on this 
point. Some would 
have stopped short 
with Presbyterian ism, 
while others held that 
"new presbyter was 
but old priest writ 
large," and so pressed 
on to Independency. 
It was early in Eliza- 
beth's reign that the 
zeal of these extreme 
brethren, inflamed by 
persecution, gave rise 

RICHARD HOOKER tO thC SCCt Of SCpa- 

ratists, who flatly de- 
nied the royal supremacy over ecclesiastical affairs, and 
asserted the right to set up churches of their own, with 
pastors and elders and rules of discipline, independent of 
queen or bishop. 

In 1567 the first congregation of this sort, consisting of 
about a hundred persons assembled in a hall in Anchor Lane 
in Ixjndon, was forcibly broken up and thirty-one of the 
number were sent to jail and kept there for nearly a year. 




THE PURITAN EXODUS 6l 

By 1576 the Separatists had come to be recognized as a sect, 
under the lead of Robert Browne, a man of high Robert 
social position, related to the great Lord Burgh- ^^^tht 
ley. Browne fled to Holland, where he preached Separatists 
to a congregation of luiglish exiles, and wrote books which 
were smuggled into England and privately circulated there, 
much to the disgust, not only of the queen, but of all parties, 

Puritans as well as High Church- 
'O^^Sfilf ^tov\^-n.^ men. The great majority of Puri- 
tans, whose aim was not to leave 
the church, but to stay in it and control it, looked with 
dread and disapproval upon these extremists who seemed 
likely to endanger their success by forcing them into deadly 
opposition to the crown. Just as in the years which ushered 
in our late Civil War, the opponents of the Republicans 
sought to throw discredit upon them by confusing them 
with the little sect of Abolitionists ; and just as the Repub- 
licans, in resenting the imputation, went so far as to frown 
upon the Abolitionists, so that in December, i860, men who 
had just voted for Mr. Lincoln were ready to join in break- 
ing up **John Brown meetings" in Boston ; so it was with 
religious parties in the reign of IClizabcth. The opponents 
of the Puritans pointed to the Sej)aratists, and cried, " See 
whither your anarchical doctrines are leading! " and in their 
eagerness to clear themselves of this insinuation, the leading 
Puritans were as severe upon the Separatists as anybody. 
It is worthy of note that in both instances the imputation, 
so warmly resented, was true. Lender the pressure of actual 
hostilities the Republicans did become Abolitionists, and in 
like manner, when in iMigland it came to downright warfare 
the Puritans became Separatists. But meanwhile it fared ill 
with the little sect which everybody hated and despised. 
Their meetings were broken up by mobs. In an old pam- 
phlet describing a "tumult in Fleet Street, raised by the 
disorderly preachment, pratings, and prattlings of a swarm 
of Separatists." one reads such sentences as the following : 
" At length they catcht one of them alone, but they kickt 




62 



thl: I!i;(;innin(;s of nkw knglanu 



him so vehemently as if they meant to beat him into a jelly. 
It is amhi^iioits whether they have kil'd him or no, but for 
a certainty they did knoek him about as if they meant to 
pull him t(i pieces. I eonfesse it had been nn matter if they 




had beaten the whole tribe in the like manner." For their 
leaders the penalty was more serious. The denial of the 
queen's ecclesiastical supremacy could be treated as high 
treason, and two of Browne's friends, convicted of circulating 



THE PURITAN EXODUS 63 

his books, were sent to the gallows. In spite of these dan- 
gers Browne returned to England in 1585. William the 
Silent had lately been murdered, and heresy in Holland was 
not yet safe from the long arm of the Spaniard. Browne 
trusted in Lord Burghlcy's ability to protect him, but in 
1588, finding himself in imminent danger, he suddenly 
recanted and accepted a comfortable living under the bish- 
ops who had. just condemned him. His followers were 
already known as Brownists ; henceforth their enemies took 
pains to call them so and twit them with holding doctrines 
too weak for making martyrs. 

The flimsiness of Browne's moral texture prevented him 
from becoming the leader in the I*uritan exodus to New 
England. That honour was reserved for William wiiiiam 
Brewster, son of a country gentleman who had for '*''*'*^^*^'' 
many years been postmaster at Scrooby. 'I'he office was 
then one of high resjwnsibility and influence. After taking 
his degree at Cambridge, Brewster became ])rivate secre- 
tary to Sir William Davison, whom he accompanied on his 
mission to the Netherlands. When Davison's public career 

came to an end in 1 587, Brew- 
ster returned to Scrooby, and 
^^^ soon afterward succeeded his 
father as postmaster, in which 
position he remained until 1607. During the interval Eliza- 
beth died, and James Stuart came from Scotland to take 
her place on the throne. The feelings with which the late 
queen had regarded I^iritanism were mild compared with 
the sentiments entertained by her successor. Eor some 
years he had been getting worsted in his struggle with the 
Presbyterians of the northern kingdom. His vindictive mem- 
ory treasured up the day when a mighty Puritan preacher 
had in public twitched him by the .sleeve and called him 
"God's silly vassal." ** I tell you, sir," said Andrew Mel- 
ville on that occasion, " there are two kings and two king- 
doms in Scotland. There is Christ Jesus the King, and his 
kingdom the Kirk, whose subject James VI. is, and of whose 



Mn ifM 




THE BECINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 




kingdom not a king, nor a lord, nor a head, but a member. 
And they whom Christ hath called to watch over his kirk 
and govern his spiritual kingdom have sufficient power and 
authority so to do both together and severally." In this 
bold and masterful speech we have the whole political phi- 
losophy of Puritanism, as in a nutshell. Under the guise of 
theocratic fanaticism, and in words as arrogant as e\'er fell 
James ffotn priestly lips, there was couched the assertion 

And^"'' of tfi*^ popular will against despotic privilege. Mel- 
MeiYiiie Yiii,. coiild .Say such things to the king's face and 
walk away unharmed, because there .stood behind him a 
[leople fully aroiisecl tii the conviction that there is an eternal 
law of G(kI, which kings no less than scullions must obey.* 
Melville knew this full well, and so did James know it in the 
bitterness of his heart. He would have no such mischievous 
' (Ireeii, History of llu- English Ptoplt. iii. 4;. 



THE PURITAN EXODUS 65 

work in England. He despised Elizabeth's grand national 
policy which his narrow intellect could not comprehend. 
He could see that in fighting Spain and aiding Dutchmen 
and Huguenots she was strengthening the very spirit that 
sought to pull monarchy down. In spite of her faults, 
which were neither few nor small, the patriotism of that 
fearless woman was superior to any personal ambition. It 
was quite otherwise with James. He was by no means 
fearless, and he cared more for James Stuart than for either 
England or Scotland. He had an overweening opinion of 
his skill in kingcraft. In coming to Westminster it was his 
policy to use his newly acquired power to break down the 
Puritan party in both kingdoms and to fasten episcopacy 
upon Scotland. In pursuing this policy he took no heed of 
English national sentiment, but was quite ready to defy and 
insult it, even to the point of making — before children who 
remembered the Armada had yet reached middle age — an 
alliance with the hated Spaniard. In such wise James suc- 
ceeded in arraying against the monarchical principle the 
strongest forces of English life, — the sentiment of nation- 
ality, the sentiment of personal freedom, and the uncom- 
promising religious fervour of Calvinism ; and out of this 
invincible combination of forces has been wrought the nobler 
and happier state of society in which we live to-day. 

Scarcely ten months had James been king of England 
when he invited the leading Puritan clergymen to meet him- 
self and the bishops in a conference at Hampton Court, as 
he wished to learn what changes they would like to make 
in the government and ritual of the church. In the course 
of the discussion he lost his temper and stormed, as was his 
wont. The mention of the word " presbytery " lashed him 
into fury. ** A Scottish presbytery," he cried, "agreeth as 
well with a monarchy as God and the Devil. Then 
Jack and Tom and Will and Dick shall meet, and James's 

. . 1 . , , Ml view of the 

at their pleasures censure me and my council, and political 
all our proceedings. . . . Stay, I pray you, for one s^'"*^*^ 
seven years, before you demand that from me, and if then 




66 



THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENHiLAND 



you find me pursy and fat, and my windpipes stuffed, I will 
perhaps hearken to you. . . . Until you find that I grow 
lazy, let that alone." One of the bishops declared that in 
this significant tirade his Majesty siK)kc by special inspira- 
tion from Heaven ! The Puritans saw that their only hope 
lay in resistance. H any doubt remained, it was dis|>ellcd 




THE PURITAN EXODUS 



67 



by the vicious threat with which the king broke up the 
conference. "I will make them conform," said he, "or I 
will harry them out of the land." 

These words made a profound sensation in England, as 
well they might, for they heralded the struggle which within 
half a century was to deliver up James's son to the execu- 
tioner. The Parliament of 1604 met in angrier mood than 
any Parliament which had assembled at Westminster since 
the dethronement of Richard II. Among the churches 
non-conformity began more decidedly to assume the form 




of secession. The keynote of the conflict was struck at 
Scrooby. Staunch Puritan as he was, Brewster had not 
hitherto favoured the extreme measures of the Separatists. 
Now he withdrew from the church, and gathered together 
a company of men and women who met on Sundays for 
divine service in his own drawing-room at Scrooby xhe con- 
Manor. In organizing this independent Congrega- ^|'"™ 
tionalist society, Brewster was powerfully aided by ratists n 
John Robinson, a native of Lincolnshire. Robin- " ^ 
son was then thirty years of age, and had taken his mas- 
ter's degree at Cambridge in 1600. He was a man of great 
learning and rare sweetness of temper, and was moreover 
distinguished for a broad and tolerant habit of mind too sel- 
dom found among the Puritans of that day. Friendly and 
unfriendly writers alike bear witness to his spirit of Christian 



68 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

charity and the comparatively slight value which he attached 
to orthodoxy in points of doctrine ; and we can hardly be 
wrong in supposing that the comparatively tolerant behav- 
iour of the Plymouth colonists, whereby they were contrasted 
with the settlers of Massachusetts, was in some measure due 

to the abiding influence of the 
^j^ ^ (^ ^ teachings of this admirable man. 
/y^ ' <^'^^^;/^2x- Another important member of the 
^ Scrooby congregation was William 

Bradford, of the neighbouring village of Austerfield, then a 
lad of seventeen years, but already remarkable for maturity 
of intelligence and weight of character. Afterward governor 
of Plymouth for nearly thirty years, he became the histo- 
rian of his colony ; and to his picturesque chronicle, written 
in pure and vigorous English, we are indebted for most that 
we know of the migration that started from Scrooby and 
ended in Plymouth. 

It was in 1606 — two. years after King James's truculent 
threat — that this independent church of Scrooby was or- 
ganized. Another year had not elapsed before its members 
had suffered so much at the hands of officers of the law, 
that they began to think of following the example of former 
heretics and escaping to Holland. After an unsuccessful 
attempt in the autumn of 1607, ^hey at length succeeded a 
few months later in accomplishing their flight to Amster- 
dam, where they hoped to find a home. But here they 
found the English exiles who had preceded them so fiercely 
involved in doctrinal controversies, that they decided to go 
further in search of peace and quiet. This decision, which 
we may ascribe to Robinson's \yise counsels, served to keep 
the society of Pilgrims from getting divided and scattered. 
They reached Leyden in 1609, just as the Spanish govern- 
ment had sullenly abandoned the hopeless task of conquer- 
ing the Dutch, and had granted to Holland the Twelve 
The flight Ycars Truce. During eleven of these twelve years 
to Holland the Pilgrims remained in Leyden, supporting them- 
selves by various occupations, while their numbers increased 
















- ? J 1 « J "" >i *5 1 



1 5 ^^ 



- - i2i 






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i 



I 



.« ? 



- .o ^ •< f ^ 5 O V ? 



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THE PURITAN EXODUS 69 

to three hundred or more. There was also, during the 
same years, a congregation of Englishmen at Amsterdam. 
Brewster opened a publishing house, devoted mainly to the 
issue of theological books. Robinson accepted a professor- 
ship in the university, and engaged in the defence of Cal- 
vinism against the attacks of Episcopius, the successor of 



^/ 




i 


'§ 


\^K 


^^^^^ 




» 


^^^mvf 



Arminius. The youthful Bradford devoted himself to the 
study of languages, — Dutch, French, I-atin, Greek, and 
finally Hebrew; wishing, as he said, to "see with his own 
eyes the ancient oracles of God in all their native beauty." 
During their sojourn in Lcydcn, the Pilgrims were intro- 
duced to a strange and novel spectacle, — the systematic 
legal toleration of all persons, whether Catholic or Protes- 
tant, who called themselves followers of Christ. AH persons 
who came to Holland, and led decorous lives there, were 
protected in their opinions and customs. By contempo- 
rary writers in other countries this eccentric behaviour of 
the Dutch government was treated with unspeakable scorn. 
" All strange religions flock thither," says one ; it is " a com- 



70 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

mon harbour of all heresies/* a " cage of unclean birds," says 
another; "the great mingle mangle of religion/' says a 
third.^ In spite of the relief from persecution, however, 
the Pilgrims were not fully satisfied with their new home. 
The expiration of the truce with Spain might prove that 
this relief was only temporary ; and at any rate, complete 
toleration did not fill the measure of their wants. Had they 
come to Holland as scattered bands of refugees, they might 
have been absorbed into the Dutch population, as Huguenot 
refugees have been absorbed in Germany, England, and 
Why the America. But they had come as an organized 
SdToT^ community, and absorption into a foreign nation 
stay there vvas Something to be dreaded. They wished to 
preserve their English speech and English traditions, keep 
up their organization, and find some favoured spot where 
they might lay the corner-stone of a great Christian state. 
The spirit of nationality was strong in them ; the spirit of 
self-government was strong in them ; and the only thing 
which could satisfy these feelings was such a migration as 
had not been seen since ancient times, a migration like that 
of Phokaians to Massilia or Tyrians to Carthage. 

It was too late in the world's history to carry out such a 
scheme upon European soil. Every acre of territory there 
was appropriated. The only favourable outlook was upon 
the Atlantic coast of America, where English cruisers had 
now successfully disputed the pretensions of Spain, and 
where after forty years of disappointment and disaster a 
flourishing colony had at length been founded in Virginia. 
The colonization of the North American coast had now 
become part of the avowed policy of the British govern- 
ment. In 1606 a great joint-stock company was formed for 
the establishment of two colonies in America. The branch 
which was to take charge of the proposed southern colony 
had its headquarters in London ; the management of the 
northern branch was at Plymouth in Devonshire. Hence 
the two branches are commonly spoken of as the London 

^ Steele's Life of Brewster^ p. 161. 





MS . . A ^^^^S 




^^Briefeand true Reladon of i^^^^^tf 




^^M the Dilcooericorthc Nonh 


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kI^^^^s^^^^^^s^^^^^iIx^Skb 















THE PURITAN EXODUS 73 

and Plymouth companies. The former was also called the 
Virginia Company, and the latter the North Vir- The Lon- 
ginia Company, as the name of Virginia was then pjyn^outh 
loosely applied to the entire Atlantic coast north of companies 
Florida. The London Company had jurisdiction from 34° to 
38° north latitude ; the Plymouth Company had jurisdiction 
from 45° down to 41^ ; the intervening territory, between 38° 
and 41°, was practically to go to whichever company should 
first plant a self-supporting colony. The local government 
of each colony was to be entrusted to a council resident in 
America and nominated by the king ; while general super- 
vision over both colonics was to be exercised by a council 
resident in I^ngland. 

In pursuance of this general plan, though with some 
variations in detail, the settlement of Jamestown had been 
begun, in 1607, and its success was now beginning to seem 
assured. On the other hand, all the attempts which had 
been made to the north of the fortieth parallel had failed 
miserably. As early as 1602 Bartholomew Gosnold, with 
32 men, had landed on the headland which they named 
Cape Cod from the fish found thereabouts in great numbers. 
This was the first English name given to any spot in that 
part of America, and so far as known these were the first 
linglishmen that ever set foot there. They went on and 
gave names to Martha's Vineyard and the PLliza- pirstex- 
beth Islands in Buzzard's Bay ; and on Cuttyhunk pjoration 

-' -^ , of the New 

they built some huts with the intention of remain- Kngiand 
ing, but after a month's experience they changed 
their mind and went back to England. Gosnold's story 
interested other captains, and on Easter Sunday, 1605, 
George Weymouth set sail for North Virginia, as it was 
called. He found Cape Cod and coasted northward as far 
as the Kennebec river, up which he sailed for many miles. 
Weymouth kidnapped five Indians and carried them to P3ng- 
land, that they might learn the language and acquire a whole- 
some respect for the arts of civilization and the resistless 
power of white men. His glowing accounts of the spacious 



i 



I 



74 THE 1JE(;1NN1NGS OK NEW ENGLAND 

harbours, the abundance of fish and game, the noble trees, 
the luxuriant herbage, and the balmy climate, aroused gen- 
eral interest in ICngland, and doubtless had some influence 
upon the formation, in the following year, of the great joint- 
stock company just described. The leading spirit of the 
I'lymnuth Company was Sir John Popham, chief-justice of 
ICngland, and he was not disposed to let his friends of the 
southern branch excel him in promptness. Within three 
months after the founding of Jamestown, a party of 120 
colonists, led by the judge's kinsman, George Popham, landed 
at the mouth of the Kennebec, and proceeded to build a 
rude village of some fifty cabins, with storehouse, chapel, 
and bUicklnmse. When they landed in August they doubt- 
less shared Weymouth's opinion of the climate. These 
[•Englishmen had heard of warm countries like Italy and cold 
countries like Russia ; harsh experience soon taught them 
that there are climates in which the summer of Naples may 
alternate with the winter of Moscow. The president and 
many others fell sick and died. News came of the death of 
Sir John Popham in England, and presently the weary and 
disui)pointed settlers abandoned their enterprise and returned 
to their old homes. Their failure spread abroad in England 
the opinion that North VirginLi was uninhabitable by reason 
of the coUl, and no further attempts were made upon that 
coast until in 1(314 't was visited by Captain John Smith. 

The romantic career of this gallant and garrulous hero 
did not end with his departure from the infant colony at 
Jamestown. Hy a curious destiny his fame is associated 
John with the iH'ginnings of both the southern and the 

northern imrtions of the L'nited States. To Vir- 
ginlt Smith may be said to have given its ver>- existence as 
9 commonwealth ; to New England he gave its name. In 
1614 he came over with two ships to North Virginia, ex- 
plored its coast minutely from the Penobscot river to Cape 
Ctxi. and thinking it a country of such extent and impor- 
tance as to desene a name of its own. rechristened it New 
Bogland. On returning home he made a ver)- good map of 



THE PURITAN EXODUS 




the coast and dotted it with Knglish names suggested by 
Prince Charles. Of these names Cape Elizabeth, Cape 
Ann, Charles River, and Plymouth still remain where Smith 
placed them. In 1615 Smith again set sail for the New 
World, this time with a view to planting a colony under the 



76 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

auspices of the Plymouth Company, but his talent for strange 
adventures had not deserted him. He was taken prisoner 
by a French fleet, carried hither and thither on a long cruise, 
and finally set ashore at Rochelle, whence, without a penny 
in his pocket, he contrived to make his way back to Eng- 
land. Perhaps Smith's life of hardship may have made 
him prematurely old. After all his wild and varied experi- 
ence he was now only in his thirty-seventh year, but we do 
not find him going on any more voyages. The remaining 
sixteen years of his life were spent quietly in England in 
writing books, publishing maps, and otherwise stimulating 
the public interest in the colonization of the New World. 
But as for the rocky coast of New England, which he had 
explored and named, he declared that he was not so simple 
as to suppose that any other motive than riches would " ever 
erect there a commonwealth or draw company from their 
ease and humours at home, to stay in New England." 

In this opinion, however, the bold explorer was mistaken. 
Of all migrations of peoples the settlement of New England 
is preeminently the one in which the almighty dollar played 
the smallest part, however important it may since have be- 
come as a motive power. It was left for religious enthusi- 
asm to achieve what commercial enterprise had failed to 
accomplish. By the summer of 1617 the Pilgrim society 
at Leyden had decided to send a detachment of its most 
vigorous members to lay the foundations of a Puritan state 
in America. There had been much discussion as to the fit- 
test site for such a colony. Many were in favour of Guiana, 
which Sir Walter Raleigh had described in such glowing 
colours ; but it was thought that the tropical climate would 
be ill-suited to northern men of industrious and thrifty habit, 
and the situation, moreover, was dangerously exposed to the 
Spaniards. Half a century had scarcely elapsed since the 
wholesale massacre of Huguenots in Florida. New England, 
on the other hand, was considered too cold. Popham's ex- 
perience was not encouraging. Virginia was then talked of, 
but while the subject was under discussion an attempt was 






THE PURITAN EXODUS 77 

made to send a company of Mgrims thither from Amster- 
dam, and it ended in disaster. In 1618 a certain Mr. Black- 
well, elder of the church at Amsterdam, made arrangements 
with the London Company for settling such a colony in Vir- 
ginia. The details of the affair are obscure. It appears that 
Blackwell and some friends were arrested in London, but the 




78 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

astute elder contrived so to represent things — perhaps with 
some violence to truth — as to obtain Archbishop Abbot's 
blessing on his enterprise. But the blessing, as Bradford 
pithily suggests, proved ineffectual A company of i8o 
emigrants were " packed together like herrings '* in a small 
ship, whereat " the marchants upbraided Mr. Blackwell " 
for these inadequate arrangements, and he retorted upon 
them ; "yea, y* streets at Gravcsend runge of their extreame 
quarrelings, crying out one of another, thou hast brought 
me to this." When Captain Argall returned from Virginia, 
in May, 1619, he reported the arrival of the little weather- 
beaten ship in Chesapeake Bay, with less than fifty surviv- 
ors ; the rest, including Blackwell himself, had died on the 
voyage. ** Heavy news it is, and I would be glad to heare 
how farr it will discourage." ^ 

Our narrator goes on to inform us that this calamity, in- 
stead of causing discouragement, only begat a firm resolve 
to " amend that wherein we had failed." 

The famous election of April, 1619, in which the party of 
Sir Thomas Smith in the London Company was decisively 
overthrown by the party of Sir Edwin Sandys,^ was emi- 
nently favourable to the negotiations of the Pilgrims for a 
home in Virginia. It was not their wish to add one more 
to the little group of plantations on James river. Such an 
arrangement would be likely to leave them with less auton- 

The Pii- ^"^y ^^^^ ^^^y desired. But the country about the 
grimsat Delaware river afforded an opportunity for erect- 
decidcto ing an independent colony under the jurisdiction of 
settlement the Loudou Company, and this seemed the best 
iSaware coursc to pursuc. Sir Edwin Sandys, now the 
^^^^ leading spirit in the London Company, was favour- 

ably inclined toward Puritans, and through him negotiations 
were begun. Capital to the amount of £7000 was furnished 
by seventy merchant adventurers in England, and the earn- 
ings of the settlers were to be thrown into a common stock 

^ Bradford A fS, p. 24. 

2 See my Old Virginia and Her Neighbours^ i. 84, 2cx). 




■ A- 

DESCRI1?Tl 

OX 

THE OBSERVATIONS, AND 
L$ftpucrie<, of Captain I»tm Smith ( AdmiraU 
^•filiirCounny]inihcNonhof^iMnM,iatlKycar 
. ^^lMi\6\\:vilhlhif»a^€il fixiShifl, ; 
" MMwattaenextyeiare\tli\tmitht 

Kddcmibtfdl himamoQgdie 

Wich the praore of ilie prefeu bencfic tin 
CooifKyifioordffi wbtriKrthiiprelditjrcarek 



T 



^ LOKDOK 

^tinted by Smfiif Lmm, For Ofcrt cUrh\ wA 

•re to bclould II his houfe called che Lodges 

in Chancery lane, oucr againft Lin* 

colnnlnnc. liSK. 



8o THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

until these subscribers should have been remunerated. A 
grant of land was obtained from the London Company, and 
the king was asked to protect the emigrants by a charter, 
but this was refused. James, however, made no objections 
to their going, herein showing himself less of a bigot than 
Louis XIV. in later days, who would not suffer a Huguenot 
to set foot in Canada, though France was teeming with Hu- 
guenots who would have been glad enough to go. When 
James inquired how the colonists expected to support them- 
selves, some one answered, most likely by fishing. "Very 
good," quoth the king, "it was the Apostles* own calling." 
He declared that no one should molest them so long as they 
behaved themselves properly. From this unwonted urban- 
ity it would appear that James anticipated no trouble from 
the new colony. A few Puritans in America could not do 
much to annoy him, and there was of course a fair chance 
of their perishing, as so many other colonizers had perished. 
The congregation at Leyden did not think it wise to cut 
loose from Holland until they should have secured a foot- 
hold in America. It was but an advance guard that started 
out from Delft haven late in July, 1620, in the rickety ship 
Speedwell, with Brewster and Bradford, and sturdy Miles 
Standish, a trained soldier whose aid was welcome, though 
he does not seem to have belonged to the congregation. 
Robinson remained at Leyden, and never came to America. 
After a brief stop at Southampton, where they met the 
Mayflower with friends from London, the Pilgrims again 
set sail in the two ships. The Speedwell sprang a leak, and 
they stopped at Dartmouth for repairs. Again they started, 
and had put three hundred miles of salt water between 
themselves and Land's End, when the Speedwell leaked so 
badly that they were forced to return. When they dropped 
anchor at Plymouth in Devonshire, about twenty were left on 
shore, and the remainder, exactly one hundred in number, 
crowded into the Mayflower and on the 6th of September 
started once more to cross the Atlantic. The capacity of 
the little ship was 180 tons, and her strength was but slight. 



THE PURITAN EXODUS Si 

In a fierce storm in mid-ocean a mainbeam amidships was 
wrenched and cracked, and but for a huge iron screw 
which one of the passengers had brought from oi ii>e 
Delft, they might have gone to the bottom. The ''' ""' 
foul weather prevented any accurate calculation of latitude 
and longitude, and they were so far out in their reckoning 




that when they caught sight of land on the gtb of November, 
it was to Cape Cod that they had come. Their patent gave 
them no authority to settle here, as it was beyond the juris- 
diction of the London Company. They turned their prow 
southward, but enconntering perilous shoals and a stiff 
headwind they desisted and sought shelter in Cape Cod bay. 
On the nth they decided to find some place of abode in 



82 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

this neighbourhood, anticipating no difficulty in getting a 
patent from the Plymouth Company, which was anxious to 
obtain settlers. For five weeks they stayed in the ship 
while little parties were exploring the coast and deciding 
Founding ^poi"^ the best site for a town. It was perhaps a 
o^, mere coincidence that the spot which they chose 

Plymouth ^ 

had already received from John Smith the name of 
Plymouth, the beautiful port in Devonshire from which the 
Mayflower had sailed.^ 

There was not much to remind them of home in the 
snow-covered coast on which they landed. They had hoped 
to get their rude houses built before the winter should set 
in, but the many delays and mishaps had served to bring 
them ashore in the coldest season. When the long winter 
came to an end, fifty-one of the hundred Pilgrims had died, 
— a mortality even greater than that before which the Poj)- 
ham colony had succumbed, l^ut Brewster spoke truth 
when he said, " It is not with us as with men whom small 
things can discourage or small discontentments cause to 
wish themselves at home again." At one time the living 
were scarcely able to bury the dead ; only Brewster, Stan- 
dish, and five other hardy ones were well enough to get 
about. At first all were crowded under a single roof, and 
as glimpses were caught of dusky savages skulking among 
the trees, a platform was built on the nearest hill and a few 
cannon were placed there in such wise as to command the 
neighbouring valleys and plains. By the end of the first 
summer the platform had grown to a fortress, down from 
which to the harbour led a village street with seven houses 
finished and others going up. Twenty-six acres had been 
cleared, and a plentiful harvest gathered in ; venison, wild 

1 Nathaniel Morton says that the name Plymouth was adopted as 
that of the last town the Pilgrims had left in their native country (AVti' 
Efii^land's Metnorial, p. 56). Some of tiie emigrants may have had a 
copy of Smith's map, but it was a curious coincidence that he should 
have written just in this place, where the Pilgrims were to come, the 
name of the English port from which they were to sail. 



M^£,^ 4g^iy^^^^ 







c^^ny^ 5^.^^^^^ 







J^c^ 





7^ 



c-nro^ 




AUTOGRAPHS OF THE MAYFLOWER PILGRIMS 



86 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

thought, more than half the Indian population between the 
Penobscot river and Narragansett bay. Many of the Indi- 
ans were inclined to attribute this calamity to the murder 
of two or three white fishermen the year before. They had 
not got over the superstitious dread with which the first 
sight of white men had inspired them, and now they believed 
that the strangers held the demon of the plague at their 
disposal and had let him loose upon the red men in revenge 
Why the ^^^ ^^^ murdcrs they had committed. This whole- 
colony some delusion kept their tomahawks quiet for a 

was not , * , * 

attacked by while. When they saw the Englishmen establish- 
ing themselves at Plymouth, they at first held a 
powwow in the forest, at which the new-comers were cursed 
with all the elaborate ingenuity that the sorcery of the medi- 
cine-men could summon for so momentous an occasion ; but 
it was deemed best to refrai^ from merely human methods 
of attack. It was not until the end of the first winter that 
any of them mustered courage to visit the palefaces. Then 
an Indian named Samoset, who had learned a little English 
from fishermen and for his own part was inclined to be 
friendly, came one day into the village with words of wel- 
come. He was so kindly treated that presently Massasoit, 
principal sachem of the Wampanoags, who dwelt between 
Narragansett and Cape Cod bays, came with a score of 
painted and feathered warriors and squatting on a green 
rug and cushions in the governor's log-house smoked the 
pipe of peace, while Standish with half-a-dozen musketeers 
stood quietly by. An offensive and defensive alliance was 
then and there made between King Massasoit and King 
James, and the treaty was faithfully kept for half a century. 
Some time afterward, when Massasoit had fallen sick and 
lay at death's door, his life was saved by Edward Winslow, 
who came to his wigwam and skilfully nursed him. Hence- 
forth the Wampanoag thought well of the Pilgrim. The 
powerful Narragansetts, who dwelt on the farther side of 
the bay, felt differently, and thought it worth while to try 
the effect of a threat. A little while after the Fortune 



THE PURITAN EXODUS 




had brought its reinforcement, the Narragansett sachem 
Canonicus sent a messenger to Hymouth with a bundle of 
newly-made arrows wrapped in a snake-skin. The messen- 
ger threw it in at the governor's door and made off with 



88 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

unseemly haste. Bradford understood this as a challenge, 
and in this he was confirmed by a friendly Wampanoag. 
The Narragansetts could muster 2(XX) warriors, for whom 
forty or fifty Englishmen, even with firearms, were hardly 
a fair match ; but it would not do to show fear. Bradford 
stuffed the snake-skin with powder and bullets, and sent it 
back to Canonicus, telling him that if he wanted war he 
might come whenever he liked and get his fill of it. When 
the sachem saw what the skin contained, he was afraid to 
touch it or have it about, and medicine-men, handling it no 
doubt gingerly enough, carried it out of his territory. 

It was a fortunate miscalculation that brought the Pil- 
grims to New England. Had they ventured upon the lands 
between the Hudson and the Delaware, they would probably 
have fared worse. They would soon have come into colli- 
sion with the Dutch, and not far from that neighbourhood 
dwelt the Susquehannocks, at that time one of the most 
powerful and ferocious tribes on the continent. For the 
present the new-comers were less likely to be molested in 
the Wampanoag country than anywhere else. In the course 
of the year 162 1 they obtained their grant from the Plym- 
outh Company. This grant was not made to them directly 
but to the joint-stock company of merchant adventurers 
with whom they were associated. But the alliance between 
the Pilgrims and these London merchants was not alto- 
gether comfortable ; there was too much divergence between 
their aims. In 1627 the settlers, wishing to be entirely 
independent, bought up all the stock and paid for it by in- 
stalments from the fruits of their labour. By 1633 they 
had paid every penny, and become the undisputed owners of 
the country they had occupied. 

Such was the humble beginning of that great Puritan 
exodus from England to America which had so much to do 
with founding and peopling the United States. These Pil- 
grims of the Mayflower were but the pioneers of a mighty 
host. Historically their enterprise is interesting not so 
much for what it achieved as for what it suggested. Of 



THE PURITAN EXODUS 




o Elder Brewslcr; i bcleKigcd to 



itself the Plymouth colony could hardly have become a 
wealthy and powerful state Its {growth was extremely slow. 
After ten years its numbers were but three hundred. In 
1643, when the exodus had come to an end, and the New 
England Confederacy was formed, the population of Plym- 



90 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

outh was but three thousand. In an established commu- 
nity, indeed, such a rate of increase would be rapid, but it 
was not sufficient to raise in New England a power which 
could overcome Indians and Dutchmen and Frenchmen, and 
assert its will in opposition to the crown. It is when we 
view the founding of Plymouth in relation to what came 
afterward, that it assumes the importance which belongs to 
the beginning of a new era. 

We have thus seen how it was that the political aspira- 
tions of James I. toward absolute sovereignty resulted in the 
beginnings of the Puritan exodus to America In the next 
chapter we shall see how the still more arbitrary policy of 
his ill-fated son all at once gave new dimensions to that 
exodus and resulted in the speedy planting of a high-spirited 
and powerful New England. 



Departure of the Pilgrims from Delfthaven 




/A 



CHAPTER III 

THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 

When Captain George Weymouth in the summer of 1605 
sailed into the harbour of Plymouth in Devonshire, with his 
five kidnapped savages and his glowing accounts of the 
country since known as New Engla^nd, the garrison of that 
fortified seaport was commanded by Sir Ferdinando Gorges. 
The Christian name of this person now strikes us as rather 
odd, but in those days it was not so uncommon in England, 
and it does not necessarily indicate a Spanish or Italian 
ancestry for its bearer. Gorges was a man of considerable 
ability, but not of high character. On the downfall of his 
old patron, the Earl 
of Essex, he had con- 
trived to save his own 
fortunes by a course 
of treachery and in- 
gratitude.^ He had 
served in the Dutch 
war against Spain, and since 1 596 had been military governor 
of Plymouth. The sight of Weymouth's Indians and the 
recital of his explorations awakened the interest of Gorges 
in the colonization of North America He became one of 
the most active members of the Plymouth, or North Virginia, 
Company established in the following year. It was he who 
took the leading part in fitting out the two ships with which 
John Smith started on his unsuccessful expedition in 161 5. 

^ It should be borne in mind that much of our information about him 
comes from his enemies ; yet there can be no doubt that his course in 
the Essex affair was such as to cast thorough discredit upon his repu- 
tation. 



5^^.-<^^ 





92 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

In the following years he continued to send out voyages of 
exploration, became largely interested in the fisheries, and 
at length in 1620 succeeded in obtaining a new patent for the 
Plymouth Company, by which it was made independent of 
the London Company, its old yoke-fellow and rival. This 
new document created a corporation of forty patentees who, 
sirFcr- sitting in council as directors of their enterprise, 
dinando were kuown as the Council for New Encrland. The 

Gorges, ^ 

and the president of this council was King James's unpop- 
for^New ular favourftc, the Duke of Buckingham, and its 
England most prominent members were the earls of Pem- 
broke and Lenox, Sir Ferdinando Gorges, and Shakespeare's 
friend, the Earl of Southampton. This council was em- 
powered to legislate for its American territory, to exercise 
martial law there and expel all intruders, and to exercise a 
monopoly of trade within the limits of the patent. Such 
extensive powers, entrusted to a company of which Bucking- 
ham was the head, excited popular indignation, and in the 
great struggle against monopolies which was then going on, 
the Plymouth Company did not fail to serve as a target for ^ 
attacks. It started, however, with too little capital to enter 
upon schemes involving immediate outlay, and began almost 
from the first to seek to increase its income by letting or 
selling portions of its territory, which extended from the 
latitude of Philadelphia to that of Quebec, thus encroaching 
upon regions where Holland and France were already gain- 
ing a foothold. It was from this company that the mer- 
chant adventurers associated with the Mayflower Pilgrims 
obtained their new patent in the summer of 1621, and for 
the next fifteen years ^all settlers in New England based 
their claims to the soil upon territorial rights conveyed to 
them by the Plymouth Company. The grants, however, 
were often ignorantly and sometimes unscrupulously made, 
and their limits were so ill-defined that much quarrelling 
ensued. 

During the years immediately following the voyage of the 
Mayflower, several attempts at settlement were made about 



THE PLANTING Of^ NEW ENGLAND 95 

the shores of Massachusetts bay. One of the merchant 
adventurers, Thomas Weston, took it into his head in 1622 
to separate from his partners and send out a colony of sev- 
enty men on his own account. These men made a settle- 
ment at Wessagusset, some twenty-five miles north of 
Plymouth. They were a disorderly, thriftless rabble, picked 
up from the London streets, and soon got into trouble with 

the Indians ; after a year 

^^nojn/i6 cyjf^^^ ^^^y ^^^^"^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ 

back to England as best 
they could, and in this the Plymouth settlers willingly aided 
them. In June of that same year 1622 there arrived on the 
scene a picturesque but ill understood personage, Thomas 
Morton, "of Clifford's Inn, Gent.," as he tells on the title- 
page of his quaint and delightful book, the *' New ICnglish 
Canaan." Bradford disparagingly says that he "had been 
a kind of pctie-fogger of Furnifell's Inn " ; but the wessagus- 
churchman Samuel Maverick declares that he was m^f^? 
a "gentleman of good qualitie." He was an agent ™^""' 
of Sir Ferdinando Gorges, and came with some thirty fol- 
lowers to make the beginnings of a royalist and Episcopal 
settlement in the Massachusetts bay. He was naturally 
regarded with ill favour by the Pilgrims as well as by the 
later Puritan settlers, and their accounts of him will proba- 
bly bear taking with a grain or two of salt. 

In 1625 there came one Captain Wollaston, with a gang 
of indented white servants, and established himself on the 
site of the present town of Quincy. Finding this system 
of industry ill suited to northern agriculture, he carried 
most of his men off to Virginia, where he sold them. Mor- 
ton took possession of the site of the settlement, which he 
called Merrymount. There, according to Bradford, he set 
up a " schoole of athisme," and his men did quaff strong 
waters and comport themselves " as if they had anew revived 
and celebrated the feasts of y Roman Goddes Plora, or the 
beastly practices of y^ madd Bachanalians." Charges of 
atheism have been freely hurled about in all ages. In Mor- 



96 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

ton's case the accusation seems to have been based upon 
the fact that he used the Book of Common Prayer. His 
men so far maintained the ancient customs of merry Eng- 
land as to plant a Maypole eighty feet high, about which 
they frolicked with the redskins, while furthermore they 
taught them the use of firearms and sold them muskets and 
rum. This was positively dangerous, and in the summer of 
1628 the settlers at Merrymount were dispersed by Miles 
Standish. Morton was sent to England, but returned the 
next year, and presently again repaired to Merrymount. 

By this time other settlements were dotted about the 
coast. There were a few scattered cottages or cabins at 
Nantasket and at the mouth of the Piscataqua, while Sam- 
uel Maverick had fortified himself on Noddle's Island, and 
William Blackstone already lived upon the Shawmut penin- 
sula, since called Boston. These two gentlemen were no 
friends to the Puritans ; they were churchmen and repre- 
sentatives of Sir Ferdinando Gorges. 

The case was very different with another of these earliest 
settlements, which deserves especial mention as coming 
directly in the line of causation which led to the founding of 
Massachusetts by Puritans. For some years past 
Dorchester the Dorchcstcr advent urcrs — a small company of 
merchants in the shire town of Dorset — had been 
sending vessels to catch fish off the New England coast. 
In 1623 these men conceived the idea of planting a small 
village as a fishing station, and setting up a church and 
preacher therein, for the spiritual solace of the fishermen 
and sailors. In pursuance of this scheme a small party 
occupied Cape Ann, where after 

two years they got into trouble '^T^i/^opx $4a^^^»r^ 
with the men of Plymouth. Sev- 
eral grants and assignments had made it doubtful where 
the ownership lay, and although this place was not near 
their own town, the men of Plymouth claimed it. The dis- 
pute was amicably arranged by Roger Conant, an independ- 
ent settler who had withdrawn from Plymouth because he 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 9? 

did not fully sympathize with the Separatist views of the 
people there. The next step was for the Dorchester adven- 
turers to appoint Conant as their manager, and the next 
was for them to abandon their enterprise, dissolve their 
partnership, and leave the remnant of the little colony to 
shift for itself. The settlers retained their tools and cattle, 




and Conant found for them a new and safer situation at 
Naunikeag. on the site of the present Salem. So far little 
seemed to have been accomplished ; one more seemed added 
to the list of failnros. 

Rut the excellent John White, the Puritan rector of Trin- 
ity Church in Dorchester, had meditated carefully about 
these things. He saw that many attempts at colonization 



98 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

had failed because they made use of unfit instruments, " a 
multitude of rude ungovernable persons, the very scum of 
the land." So Virginia had failed in its first years, and 
only succeeded when settled by worthy and industrious peo- 
ple under a strong government. The example of Plymouth, 
as contrasted with Wessagusset, taught a similar lesson. 
We desire, said White, " to raise a bulwark against the king- 
dom of Antichrist." Learn wisdom, my countrymen, from 
the ruin which has befallen the Protestants at Rochellc and 
John in the Palatinate ; learn " to avoid the plague 

his n^Wc^ while it is foreseen, and not to tarry as they did 
scheme till it ovcrtook them." The Puritan party in Eng- 
land was numerous and powerful; but the day of strife was 
not far off and none might foretell its issue. Clearly it was 
well to establish a strong and secure retreat in the New 
World, in case of disaster in the Old. What had been done 
at Plymouth by a few men of humble means might be done 
on a much greater scale by an association of leading Puri- 
tans, including men of wealth and wide social influence. 
Such arguments were urged in timely pamphlets, of one of 
which White is supposed to have been the author. The 
matter was discussed in London, and inquiry was made 
whether fit men could be found '' to engage their persons in 
the voyage." "It fell out that among others they lighted 
at last on Master I^ndicott, a man well known to divers per- 
sons of good note, who manifested much willingness to 
accept of the offer as soon as it was teiKk'red." All were 
thereby much encouraged, the schemes of White took defi- 
nite shape, and on the 19th of March, 1628, a tract of land 
was obtained from the Council for New luigland, consisting 
of all the territorv included between three miles north of 
the Merrimack and three miles south c)f the Charles in one 
direction, and the Atlantic and Pacific oceans in the other. 

This liberal grant was made at a time when people still 
supposed the Pacific coast to be not far west of Henry 
Hudson's river. The territory was granted to an associa- 
tion of six gentlemen, only one of whom — John ICndicott 



ptournidl of rhe beginning an^proceei 



oftheEngiifli Pl.in[acionict!cdJt'P//«^ in N 

'^ ' ccrramc Englilh AJu ' " 

lerchants and others. 



EK<i;.AiiD, by ccrMmc Englilh AJiKmurenboth 
Mcr ' ' ■ 



With cheir difHcuIt paflsgc/Iicir fife ariuall, tliclr 

ioyfiillbuilding of, and com (brtalilc planting thenv 

Iclucs ID the Kow well defended TowilC 

of New pLiMOTH. 

AS ALSO A RELATION OF FOVRE 
(cucrall difcoitcrtc^ llr.ce mn<ic by Tome of tbe 

fi)ncEiigli!liPI.-.ntendKTcrcn(fcnr. 

Iffl A'»>i» Milijtiayt ; (^i.iir'tbnr>Htf.tgt, tbranfirrr attdeuteiuumma- 
tLfjMvfliim. 

II I, h:il\irifiiriKj t* the Kii^itme r/Niinifclicr, inJ.-ffltei cftkrir 
^fr'iltjl ATwf MaHifoyr, t'/tirHth' Nirrohigijoiiicts, tKidnrtHfigtilt 
Jnff ■> '.-i iif»sh of their In:-, rfr^ttr Tsfq -.isnru m. 

li i I, 7 hiir V93*gi fi ibi Milfjsliuftt!, *-«'; :ii,rcKttrt.jiJimtr.t ittrt. 

\Vi(h.in .nr\rcrto all r;:(.t:obicAior:ias.ire:inytvaymi'Jc 

4);]':iiliIich\vrui,.c:!.'<-l''liitj;iil.'ip|jnij(toi.i 



r. 'IN' [)(i N' 

fi'firpii : r '•'« ' ' ' i:, ! irut'i he i ■■!;;■ ':;\tTioji ii the two 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND loi 

— figures conspicuously in the history of New England. 
The grant was made in the usual reckless style, conflicting 
and conflicted with various patents which had been feed^or^ 
issued before. In 1622 Gorges and John Mason trouble 
had obtained a grant of all the land between the rivers 
Kennebec and Merrimack, and the new grant encroached 
somewhat upon this. The difficulty seems to have been 
temporarily adjusted by some sort of compromise which 
restricted the new grant to the Merrimack, for in 1629 we 
find Mason's title confirmed to the region between that 
river and the Piscataqua, while later on Gorges appears as 
proprietor of the territory between the Piscataqua and the 
Kennebec. A more serious difficulty was the claim of 
Robert Gorges, son of Sir Ferdinando. That young man 
had in 1623 obtained a grant of some 300 square miles in 
Massachusetts, and had gone to look after it, but had soon 
returned discouraged to England and shortly afterward died. 
Hut his claim devolved upon his surviving brother, John 
Gorges, and Sir P'erdinando, in consenting to the grant to 
Endicott and his friends, expressly reserved the rights of 
his sons. No such reservation, however, was mentioned in 
the Massachusetts charter, and the colonists never paid the 
slightest heed to it. In these conflicting claims were sown 
seeds of trouble which bore fruit for more than half a cen- 
tury. 

In such cases actual possession is apt to make nine points 
in the law, and accordingly luidicott was sent over, as soon 
as possible, with sixty persons, to reinforce the ^^,,,„ 
party at Naumkeag and su]:)ersede Conant as its Kndicott 

11 /'-x 1^ T » . , . ,, , and the 

leader. On Juidicott s arrival m September, 1628, founding 
the settlers were at first inclined to dispute his "" ^'^^^ 
authority, but they were soon conciliated, and in token of 
this amicable adjustment the place was called by the He- 
brew name of Salem, or "peace." 

Meanwhile Mr. White and the partners in England were 
pushing things vigorously. Their scheme took a wider 
scope. They were determined to establish something more 




..... 



' v\ \:'.i^ 



'•^* ••re- 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 




monitory SYmploiii. The prand crisis for the Puritans had 
conic, the moment wlicn decisive action could no lonj^er be 
deferred. It was not by accident that the rapid develop- 
ment (if John White's enterprise into the Company of Mas- 



104 THE nK(;iNMN(;S OF NEW ENGLAND 

sachusctls Hay coincided exactly with the first four years 
of llic reign of Charles I. They were years well fitted to 
bring such a scheme to quick maturity. The character of 
Charles was such as to exacerbate the evils of his father's 
reign. James could leave some things alone in the com- 
fortable hope that all would by and by come out right, but 
Charles was not satisfied without meddling everywhere. 
Hoth father and son cherished some good intentions ; both 
were sincere believers in their narrow theory of kingcraft. 
I'or wrongheaded obstinacy, utter want of tact, and bottom- 
loss perfidy, there was little to choose between them. The 
liumorous epitaph of the grandson "Whose word no man 
relies v>n * might have served for them all. J^ut of this un- 

hapj>v family Charles I. was eminently the dreamer. 

lie lived in a world of his own, and was slow in 
-.ondvM'ing thought into action ; and this made him rely upon 
:hv^ .;uick wilted but unwise and unscrupulous Buckingham,^ 
wlu^ \\a> sillv enough to make feeble attempts at unpopular 
\\.v;t.:u^ without consulting Parliament. During each of 
\'!>,ulc^'^ tii^t lour years there was an angry session of Par- 
'';iv.%^:v,. in which, through the unwillingness of the popular 
\';x*x'v to lesint to violence, the king's policy seemed able 
i,^ **»^\- sis j;jound. Despite all protest the king persisted 
■ • \^Nt-t; >lrange taxes and was to some extent able to 
K>^'\Ni tScm. Men who refused to pay enforced loans were 
■. »\»\\'t itiio jail and the writ of habeas corpus was denied 
■/s:" MvMuwhile the treatment of Puritans became more 
4 »,! "s'lv vexatious. It was clear enough that Charles 
iu\r»'. i\» become an abs(>lute monarch, like Louis XIII., 
'v.:; !'*i'^im\*nt began by throwing all the blame u])on the 
. lis','. 'u tninister and seeking to impeach him. 

\*i» ■ 's- xlh of June. 1628, the II(>use of Commons ])re- 

..1..^; ' 's' most extraordinary sj)ectacle, perhaps in all its 

I i.'. V \W l.nnous Petition of Right had been passed by 

■•.■.;> i ';■ .\'\. ,uhl the royal answer had just been received. 

\\ .' -v \\ tv tl\,»t of gracious assent, but it omitted the 

' \..U(liiu*r, Puritan Revolution, p. q^. 




FROM NewEngland- 

A' true Relation of things very rC' 

markabic at the Plantation of ''PImoth 

in Nhvv -England. 

Shewing the wondrous providence and good- 
ncs of G o D,in chcir prclcrvation and continuance^ 
besNg ieltverea from mdny af far ant 
itatht Ami JUftgers* 

Together with a Relation of fuch religious and 
ci vill Lawcs and Cuftomes, as arc in praftifc amongd 

chc Indtiinsy adjoyning to tbem at this day. As alio ' 
yfhAt Ccmm^iufs are iherc tv.be rajfed fer the 
^ mdinteniViCe of that attd other PUtttA- 
ticm m the fasd CoHtarj/m 



Written by £• /f'. wJio hath borne a part in the 

ioxc-iiamcd troubles, and there liiicd fmcc 
their firft Arrivall. 



L O ND ON 

_ 1 

Pointed by 2.D. (or iVilliam bU Jen titid ^fikttBetltmie^znd 

arc Lo oc fold at their Shops, at the '£it/e in Bamls Church- 

yi^il, and ar chw ihtcc GoUm Lj^ons in Corn-hiIJ| 

nccrc the J^^// Ixthw^e, 1614. 



Mill. «»K Kh\V\l'l» \\ I \^I.< -W '. l.i.KK 



r 



io6 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

necessary legal formalities, and the Commons well knew 
Remark- what this meant. They were to be tricked with 
abiescene swcct words, and the petition was not to acquire 
House of the force of a statute. How was it possible to deal 
with such a slippery creature.^ There was but 
one way of saving the dignity of the throne without sacrifi- 
cing the liberty of the people, and that was to hold the 
king's ministers responsible to Parliament, in anticipation of 
modern methods. It was accordingly proposed to impeach 
the Duke of Buckingham before the House of Lords. The 
Speaker now " brought an imperious message from the 
king, . . . warning them . . . that he would not tolerate 
any aspersion upon his ministers." Nothing daunted by this, 
Sir John Eliot arose to lead the debate, when the Speaker 
called him to order in view of the king's message. " Amid 
a deadly stillness " Eliot sat down and burst into tears. For 
a moment the House was overcome with despair. Deprived 
of all constitutional methods of redress, they suddenly saw 
yawning before them the direful alternative — slavery or civil 
war. Since the day of Bosworth a hundred and fifty years 
had passed without fighting worthy of mention on English 
soil, such an era of peace as had hardly ever before been 
seen on the earth ; now half the nation was to be pitted 
against the other half, families were to be divided against 
themselves, as in the dreadful days of the Roses, and with 
what consequences no one could foresee. " Let us sit in 
silence," quoth Sir Dudley Digges, "we are miserable, we 
know not what to do ! " Nay, cried Sir Nathaniel Rich, 
"we must now speak, or forever hold our peace." Then 
did grim Mr. I*rynne and Sir Edward Coke mingle their 
words with sobs, while there were few dry eyes in the 
House. Presently they found their voices, and used them 
in a way that wrung from the startled king his formal assent 
to the Petition of Right. 

There is something strangely pathetic and historically 
significant ^ in the emotion of these stern, fearless men. 

' It is now more than two hundred vears since a battle has been 






..— -. 




^n 


1 




hm^^^^ 


WK/Kl 






-.■ 



, 



/ 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 107 

The scene was no less striking on the 2d of the following 
March, when, " amid the cries and entreaties of the Speaker 
held down in his chair by force," while the Usher of the 
Black Rod was knocking loudly at the bolted door, and the 
tramp of the king's soldiers was heard in the courtyard, 
liliot's clear voice rang out the defiance that whoever advised 
the levy of tonnage and poundage without a grant from Par- 
liament, or whoever voluntarily paid those duties, was to be 
counted an enemy to the kingdom and a betrayer of its 
liberties. As shouts of "Aye, aye," resounded on every 
side, " the doors were flung open, and the members poured 
forth in a throng." The noble Eliot went to end his days 
in the Tower, and for eleven years no Parliament sat again 
in England.^ 

It was in one and the same week that Charles I. thus 
began his experiment of governing without a Parliament, 
and that he granted a charter to the Company of Massa- 
chusetts Bay. He was very far, as we shall see, desperate 
from realizing the import of what he was doini^:. nature of 

° ^ . . *^ the crisis 

To the Puritan leaders it was evident that a great 
struggle was at hand. Affairs at home might well seem de- 
sperate, and the news from abroad was not encouraging. It 
was only four months since the surrender of Rochelle had 
ended the existence of the Huguenots as an armed political 
party. They had now sunk into the melancholy condition 
of a tolerated sect which may at any moment cease to be 
tolerated. In Germany the terrible Thirty Years War had 

fought in England. The last was Sedgmoor in 1685. For four cen- 
turies, since Bosworth, in 1485, the English people have lived in peace 
in their own homes, except for the brief episode of the Great Rebel- 
lion, and Monmouth *s slight affair. This long peace, unparalleled in 
history, has powerfully influenced the English and American character 
for good. Since the Middle Ages most English warfare has been war- 
fare at a distance, and that does not nourish the brutal passions in the 
way that warfare at home does. An instructive result is to be seen in 
the mildness of temper which characterized the conduct of our stupen- 
dous Civil War. Nothing like it was ever seen before. 

* Picton's Cromwell^ pp. 61, 67 ; Gardiner, Puritan Re^'olution, p. 72. 




io8 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

just reached the darkest moment for the Protestants. Fif- 
teen months were yet to pass before the immortal Giistavus 
was to cross the Baltic and give to the sorely harassed 
cause of liberty a fresh lease of life. The news of the cruel 
Edict of Restitution in this same fateful month of March, 
1629, could not but give the English Puritans great concern. 
Everywhere in Europe the champions of human freedom 
seemed worsted. They might well think that never had the 
prospect looked so dismal ; and never before, as never since, 
did the venture of a wholesale migration to the New World 
so strongly recommend itself as the only feasible escape from 
a situation that was fast becoming intolerable. Such were 
the anxious thoughts of the leading Puritans in the sj^ring of 
1629, and in face of so grave a problem different minds 
came naturally to different conclusions. Some were for 
staying in pjigland to fight it out to the bitter end ; some 
were for crossing the ocean to create a new ICngland in the 
wilderness. Either task was arduous enough, and not to be 
achieved without steadfast and sober heroism. . 

On the 26th of August twelve gentlemen, among the 
most eminent in the Puritan party, held a meeting at Cam- 
bridge, and resolved to lead a migration to New luigland, 
provided the charter of the Ma.sachusetts Bay Company and 
Transfer of ^^^ government established under it could be trans- 
thechar- ferrcd to that country. On examination it ai^peared 

ter: lolin •' ' ' 

winthrop that uo Iciial obstacle stood in the way. Accord- 
Thonla^ i^gly such of the old officers as did not wish to 
Diit ley ^,^1^^, p,^j.^ jj^ ^1^^ emigration resigned their i)lnces, 

which were forthwith filled by these new leaders. Vov gov- 
ernor the choice fell upon John Winthroj), a wealthy gentle- 
man from (iroton in Suffolk, who was henceforth to occupy 
the foremost place among the founders of New l^igland. 
Winthrop was at this time forty -one years of age, having 
been born in the memorable vear of the Armada, lie was 
a man (»f remarkable strength and beauty of chanicter, grave 
and modest, intelligent and scholarlike, intensely religious 
and endowed with a moral sensitiveness that was almost 




Arrival of the Wlnttirop Colony in Boston Ilai'bor 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 109 

morbid, yet liberal withal in his opinions and charitable in 
disposition. When his life shall have been adequately writ- 
ten, as it never has been, he will be recognized as one of the 
very noblest figures in American history. From early youth 
he had that same power of winning confidence and com- 
manding respect for which Washington was so remarkable ; 
and when he was selected as the Moses of the great Puri- 
tan exodus, there was a wide-spread feeling that extraordi- 
nary results were likely to come of such an enterprise. 

In marked contrast to Winthrop stands the figure of the 
man associated with him as deputy-governor. Thomas Dud- 
ley came of an ancient family, the histor}^ of which, alike in 
the old and in the new P^ngland, has not been altogether 
creditable. He represented the elder branch of that Nor- 
man family, to the younger branch of which belonged the 
unfortunate husband of Lady Jane 
Grey and the unscrupulous hus- 
band of Amy Robsart. There 
was, however, very little likeness 
to Elizabeth's gay lover in grim 
Thomas Dudley. His Puritanism was bleak and stern, and 
for Christian charity he was not eminent. He had a foible 
for making verses, and at his death there was found in his 
pocket a poem of his, containing a quatrain wherein the 
intolerance of that age is neatly summed up : — 

*' Let men of God in courts and churches watch 
O'er such as do a Toleration hatch, 
Lest that ill egg bring forth a cockatrice 
To poison all in heresy and vice." 

Such was the spirit of most of the Puritans of that day, but 
in the manifestation of it there were great differences, and 
here was the strong contrast between Dudley and Winthrop. 
In the former we have the typical narrow-minded, strait- 
laced Calvinist for whom it is so much easier to entertain 
respect than affection, l^ut Winthrop's character, as we 
look at the well-known portrait ascribed to Van Dyck, is 
revealed in a face expressive of what was finest in the age of 



Ov>o.^h^-^ 



no THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Elizabeth, the face of a spiritual brother of Raleigh and 
Sidney. 

The accession of two men so important as VVinthrop and 
Dudley served to bring matters speedily to a crisis. Their 
embarkation in April, 1630, was the signal for a general 
movement on the part of the English Puritans. Before 
Christmas of that year seventeen ships had come to New 
England, bringing more than 1000 passengers. This large 
wave of immigration quite overwhelmed and bore 

Founding ^ * . 

of Massa- away the few links of possession by which Gorges 
had thus far kept his hold upon the country. In 
January, 1629, John Gorges had tried to assert the validity 
of his late brother's claim by executing conveyances cover- 
ing portions of it. One of these was to John Oldham, a 
man who had been harshly treated at Plymouth, and might 
be supposed very ready to defend his rights against settlers 
of the Puritan company. Gorges further maintained that 
he retained possession of the country through the presence 
of his brother's tenants, Blackstone, Maverick, Walford, and 
others on the shores of the bay. In June, 1629, Endicott 
had responded by sending forward some fifty persons from 
Salem to begin the settlement of Charlestown. Shortly 
before Winthrop's departure from pjigland, Gorges had sent 
that singular personage, Sir Christopher Gardiner, to look 
after his interests in the New World, and there he was 
presently found established near the mouth of the Neponset 
river, in company with *^ a comly yonge woman whom he 
calcd his cousin." But these few claimants were now at 
once lost in the human tide which poured over Charlestown, 
Boston, Roxbury, iJorchester, Watertown, and **the New 
Town," as Cambridge was first called. The settlement at 
Merrymount was again dispersed, and Morton sent back to 
London ; Gardiner ficd to the coast of Maine and thence 
sailed for England in 1632. The Puritans had indeed occu-. 
pied the country in force. 

Here on the very threshold we are confronted by facts 
which show that not a mere colonial plantation, but a defi- 




THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND lit 

nite and organized state, was in process of formation. This 
emigration sufficed to make the beginnings of half a dozen 
towns, and the question as to self-government immediately 
sprang up. Early in 1632 a tax of ;£6o was assessed upon 




the .settlements, in order to (>ay for building frontier fortifi- 
cations at Newtown. This incident was in itself of small 
dimensions, as incidents in newly founded states are apt to 
be. Hut in its historic import it may serve to connect the 
England of John Hampden with the New England of 
Samuel Adams. The inhabitants of Watertown at first 



112 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

declined to pay this tax, which was assessed by the Board 
of Assistants, on the ground that English freemen cannot 
rightfully be taxed save by their own consent. This protest 
led to a change in the constitution of the infant colony, and 

here, at once, we are introduced to the beginnings 
tion^"to of American constitutional history. At first it 
ment ra^^d ^""^^^ thought that public business could be trans- 
at Water- actcd by a primary assembly of all the freemen in 

the colony meeting four times in the year ; but the 
number of freemen increased so fast that this was almost 
at once (in October, 1630) found to be impracticable. The 
right of choosing the governor and making the laws was' 
then left to the Board of Assistants; and in May, 163 1, it 
was further decided that the assistants need not be chosen 
afresh every year, but might keep their seats during good 
behaviour or until ousted by special vote of the freemen. If 
the settlers of Massachusetts had been ancient Greeks or 
Romans, this would have been about as far as they could 
go in the matter ; the choice would have been between a 
primary assembly and an assembly of notables. It is curi- 
ous to see Englishmen passing from one of these alternatives 
to the other. But it was only for a moment. The protest 
of the Watertown men came in time to check these proceed- 
ings, which began to have a decidedly oligarchical look. To 
settle the immediate question of the tax, two deputies were 
sent from each settlement to advise with the Board of Assist- 
ants ; while the power of choosing each year the governor 
and assistants was resumed by the freemen. Two years 
later, in order to reserve to the freemen the power of mak- 
ing laws without interfering too much with the ordinary 
business of life, the colonists fell back upon the old English 
rural ]>lan of electing deputies or representatives to a gen- 
eral court. 

At first the de])uties sat in the same chamber with the 
assistants, but at len;;th, in 1644, they were formed into a 
second chamber with increased powers, and the way in 
which this important constitutional change came about is 




114 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

worth remembering, as an illustration of the smallness of 
the state which so soon was to play a great part in history. 
As Winthrop puts it, " there fell out a great business upon a 
very small occasion." To a certain Captain Keayne, 
the stray of Boston, a rich man deemed to be hard and over- 
^^^ bearing toward the poor, there was brought a stray 

pig, whereof he gave due public notice through the town 
crier, yet none came to claim it till after he had killed a pig 
of his own which he kept in the same stye with the stray. 
A year having passed by, a poor woman named Sherman 
came to see the stray and to decide if it were one that she 
had lost. Not recognizing it as hers, she forthwith laid claim 
to the slaughtered pig. The case was brought before the 
elders of the church of Boston, who decided that the woman 
was mistaken. Mrs. Sherman then accused the captain of 

theft, and brought the case before 
^pol^f" f^J^^yU^ a jury, which exonerated the de- 
fendant wdth £i costs. The cap- 
tain then sued Mrs. Sherman for defamation of character 
and got a verdict for £20 damages, a round sum indeed to 
assess upon the poor woman. ^ But long before this it had 
appeared that she had many partisans and supporters; it 
had become a political question, in which the popular pro- 
test against aristocracy was implicated. Not yet brow- 
beaten, the warlike Mrs. Sherman appealed to the General 
Court. The length of the hearing shows the importance 
which was attached to the case. After seven days of dis- 
cussion the vote was taken. Seven assistants and eight 
deputies approved the former decisions, two assistants and 
fifteen deputies condemned them, while seven deputies 
refrained from voting. In other words. Captain Keayne 
had a decided majority among the more aristocratic assist- 
ants, wliile Mrs. Sherman seemed to prevail with the more 
democratic dcj^.uties. Regarding the result as the vote of a 
single body, the woman had a plurality of two ; regarding it 
as the vote of a double body, her cause had prevailed in the, 

1 It was about equivalent to 5CX) gold dollars of the present day. 




THK I'LANTINC OF NKW KNCI.ANI) 




lower house, but was lost by the vet" i>f the iipjier. Nu 
decision wns reacliL'd at the time, but alter a ye;ir of discus- 
sion the legislature was |icrmanent!y separated into two 
houses, each with a veto power ujnin the other; aiicl this 
was felt to be a victory for the assistants. 

As for the ecclesiastical p"lity of the new colony, it had 
bej^un to take shape initnediately upon the arrival of l-jidi- 
aitt's jjarty at Salem. The clerj^ymen, Samuel Skelton and 



Ii6 THE BEOIXNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Francis Higginson, consecrated each other, and a church 
covenant and confession of faith were drawn up by Higgin- 
son. Thirty persons joining in this covenant constituted 
the first church in the colony ; and several brethren ap- 
pointed by this church proceeded formally to ordain the 
two ministers by the laying on of hands. In such simple 
wise was the first Congregational church in Massachusetts 
founded. The simple fact of removal from luigland con- 
verted all the Puritan emigrants into Separatists, as Robinson 
had already predicted. Some, however, were not yet quite 
prepared for so radical a measure. These proceedings gave 
umbrage to two of the Salem party, who attempted forth- 
with to set up a separate church in conformity with episco- 
pal models. A very important question was thus raised at 
once, but it was not allowed to disturb the peace of the 
colony. Endicott was a man of summary methods. He 
immediately sent the two malcontents back to Kngland ; 
Thetri- and thus the colonial church not only seceded 
SciiaJa-^ from the national establishment, but the principle 
tisni ^yr^j^ virtually laid down that the Episcopal form 

of worship would not be tolerated in the colony. For the 
present such a step was to be regarded as a measure of 
self-defence on the part of the colonists. Episcopacy to 
them meant actual and practical tyranny, — the very thing 
they had crossed the ocean expressly to get away from, — 
and it was hardly to be supposed that they would encourage 
the growth of it in their new home. One or two surpliced 
priests, conducting worship in accordance with the Book of 
Common Prayer, might in themselves be excellent members 
of society ; but behind the surpliced priest the colonist saw 
the intolerance of Laud and the despotism of the Court of 
High Commission. In 163 1 a still more searching measure 
of self-protection w\as adopted. It was decided that ** no 
man shall be admitted to the freedom of this body politic, 
but such as are members of some of the churches within the 
limits of the same." Into the merits of this measure as 
illu.strating the theocratic ideal of society which the Puri- 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 117 

tans sought to realize in New England, we shall inquire here- 
after. At present we must note that, as a measure of self- 
protection, this decree was intended to keep out of the new 
community all emissaries of Strafford and Laud, as well as 
such persons as Morton and Gardiner and other agents of 
Sir Ferdinando Gorges. 

By the year 1634 the scheme of the Massachusetts Com- 
pany had so far prospered that nearly 4000 Hlnglishmen had 
come over, and some twenty villages on or near the shores 
of the bay had been foxmded. The building of permanent 
houses, roads, fences, and bridges had begun to go on quite 




briskly ; farms were beginning to yield a return for the labour 
of the husbandman ; lumber, furs, and salted fish were begin- 
ning to be sent to Kngland in exchange for manufactured 
articles; 4000 goats and 1500 head of cattle grazed in the 
pastures, and swine innumerable rooted in the clearings and 
helped to make ready the land for the ploughman. Political 
meetings were held, justice was administered by magistrates 
after old l-Inglish precedents, and church services were per- 



THE llEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 




J^?^^e^^i^'^s^m''~^am6rs^eM^^^ Q^ha^.. 



formed by a score of clergymen, nearly all graduates of Cam- 
bridge, though one or two had their degrees from Oxford, 
and nearly all of whom had held livings in the Church 
of England. The most distinguished of these clergymen, 
John Cotton, in his younger days a Fellow and Tutor of 
Emmanuel College, had for more than twenty years been 
rector of St. Botolph's, when he left the most magnificent 
parish church in England to hold ser\-ice in the first rude 
meeting-house of the new Boston. From ICmmanuel Col- 
lege came also Thomas Hooker and John Harvard. Jlesjdea 
these clergymen, so many of the leading persons concerned 
in the emigration were universitj- men that it was not long 
before a university began to seem indispen -sable to the colony. . 
In 1636 the General Court appropriated jC400 toward the 
establishment of a college at the New Town. In 1638 John 
FoiiTitiin Harvard, dying childless, bequeathed his library 
■if i[:irvard and the half of his estate to the new college, which 
^"^ the Court forthwith ordered to be called by his 
name ; while in honour of the mother university the New 
Town received the name of Cambridge. 




It has been said that the assembly which decreed the 
cstabUshment uf Har\-ard Colk-f;!^ was "the first body in 
which the [jcople, by their representatives, ever gave their 
own money to foimd a place of education." The state- 
ment is incorrect,^ fur before 1609, when the l'il[;rims began 
their sojonrn in Leydcn, the system of public schools, [laid 
for nut of the mnnicipal or ]>aroc]Hal taxes, had become 
thoroughly established in the Netherlands; there were not 
only public common sehouls, but every city and many rural 

' The buildinff on tlii; rijriit. MassaL-liusflls Hall, is tlie same tliat is 
shown on the right of (he i)rec:eilinj; pitlure, eligraved in 1726. 

wliich has ln'cn often repeated, was made liy 
n his s]H:eth on llic second centennial celehralion of 
viird. September S, 1836. See (juiney. History nf 
1'. ii. (154. The urator went on to say : ■■ If there is 
-i-cedenl for siirh a foundation as is lliis day com- 
memorated, il must, of course, be in Knjjiaiid ; " and as no .such Eng- 
hsh jjrecL'deni rould lie lited. lie concluded that on September S. 1636, 
■■ this auspicious preccilcnt was established, of makins; llie support of 
education a public chari;e." Tnlil the publication of Motley's l)Ooks, 
the Kn;jlish-speaking world knew very little of Dutch history. 



Kdward ICve 

the founding of Hai 



. thing a 



I20 THE liKCilNNIXGS OF NEW ENGl-AND 

places had their public Latin schools.* Nevertheless, the 
founding of Harvard College, though not an unprecedented 
act, was surely a most memorable one if we have regard to 
all the circumstances of the year in which it was done. ( )n 
every side danger was in the air. Threatened at once with 
Three-fold an Indian w^ar, with the enmity of the home gf)\- 
j'j'j'"'^^^'^^^!" ernment, and with grave dissensions among them- 
"»3'» selves, the vear 16^6 was a trvimr one indeed for 

the little community of I^iritans, and their founding a col- 
lege by i)ublic ta.\ati(»n just at this time is a striking illus- 
tration of their unalterable purpose to realize, in this new 
home, their ideal of an educated Christian society. 

That the government of Charles I. should view with a 
hostile eye the growth of a Puritan state in New England 
is not at all sur|)rising. The only fit ground for wonder 
would .seem to be that Charles should have been willing at 
the outset to grant a charter to the able and influent ial 
I Fniiii the I^iii'it^ns who Organized the Company of Massachu- 
kin-.;, will, sctts Hay. Probably, however, the king thcmght 

l)reI>:lr^;^ to ^ - , - n .-• 

att.Kkthe at first that it would relieve him at home if a few 
.my but is dozcu of tlic Puritau leaders could be allowed to 
Iii!,seliih.ns eouccutrate their minds upon a project of coloniza- 
at huine |;i^)i| in America. It might divert attention for a 
moment from his own despotic schemes. Very likelv the 
scheme would ]^rove a failure and the Massachusetts colony 
incur a fate like th:it »)f Roanoke Island ; at all events, tlie 
wealth r)f the Puritans might better be sunk in a renmte 
and perilous entei"j)ri>e than employed ;it home in organizing 
resistance to tlie ernun. Such, verv likeh', mav ]ia\e JK.-eii 
the king'^ motive in granting the .Mas>arhusetls rhartvr 
two days alter turning hi> Parliament out of (|iii)r>. \\\\\ \\\y 
events of the last hall-dozen veais had come to present tin* 
case in a new lii^ht. 'I'he voiuill' col(»n\' was not ]an^ui>liin«,. 
it was full of stur<lv lile ; it had wrougl'it mis^hii-f to tlic 
.schemes of ( lorge.s ; and what was more, it had begun to 
take unheard-«)f libeities with things ecclesiastical and poiiii 

' MotUyV ( uitt'ii Xcthrrlauds, iv. ;''7* 



i 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND i2i 

cal. Its example was getting to be a dangerous one. It 
was evidently worth while to put a strong curb upon Massa- 
chusetts. Any promise made to his subjects Charles re- 
garded as a promise made under duress which he was quite 
justified in breaking whenever it suited his purpose to do so. 
Ivnemies of Massachusetts were busy in England. Schis- 
matics from Salem and revellers from Merrymount were 
ready with their tales of woe, and now Gorges and Mason 
were vigorously pressing their territorial claims. They bar- 
gained with the king. In February, 1635, the moribund 
Council for New England surrendered its charter and all its 
corporate rights in America, on condition that the king 
should disregard all the various grants by which these rights 
had from time to time been alienated, and should divide up 
the territory of New England in severalty among the mem- 
bers of the Comicil. In pursuance of this scheme Gorges 
and Mason, together with half a dozen noblemen, were al- 
lowed to jjarcel out New England among themselves as they 
should sec fit. In this way the iniJuence of the Marquis 
of Hamilton, with the Earls 
of Arundel, Surrey, Carlisle, 
and Stirling, might be actively 
enlisted against the Massachu- 
sett.'i Company. A writ of 
quo '.i.'arranto was brought 
against it; and it was propo.-ied 
to send Sir Ferdinando to gov- 
ern N'cw I^ngland with \'icere- 
gal powers like those afterward 
exercised by Andros. 

For a moment the danger 
.seemed alarming; but. asWin- 
throp says, "the I>jrd frus- 
trated their de.-iign." It was 

noted as a .special providence that the ship in which Gorges 
was to sail was hardly off the stocks when it fell to pieces. 
Then the most indefatigable enemy of the colon}', John 




122 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Mason, suddenly died. The king issued his famous writ of 
ship-money and set all England by the ears ; and, to crown 
all, the attempt to read the Episcopal liturgy at St. Giles's 
church in Edinburgh led straight to the Solemn League 
and Covenant. Amid the first mutterings of the Great 
Rebellion the proceedings against Massachusetts were 
dropped, and the unheeded colony went on thriving in its 
independent course. Possibly too some locks at Whitehall 
may have been turned with golden keys,* for the company 
was rich, and the king was ever open to such arguments. 
Hirt when the news of his evil designs had first reached 



lioston the people of the infant colony showed no readiness 
to yield to intimidation. In their measures there was a de- 
cided, smack of what was to be realized a hundred and forty 
years later. Orders were immediately issued for fortifying 
Castle Island in the harbour and the heights at Charles- 
town and Dorchester. Militia companies were put in train- 
ing, and a beacon was set up on the highest hill in Boston, 
to give prompt notice to all the surrounding country of any 
approaching enemy. 

While the ill-will of the home government thus kept the 
c<)lonists in a state of alarm, there were causes of 
idii;!^^™ strife at work at their very doors, of which they 
sior^'- were fain to rid them.'ielves as soon as possible. 

^"f" Amimg all the I'uritans who came to New Eng- 
land there is no more interesting figure than the 
learned, tjulck-witted pugnacious Wel.-ihman, Roger Williams. 
' C. y. Adani.s, Sir Chihtoph.r Gaiiiiim: Knight, p. 3[- 



A Kett into the 

itANGUAGE 

F 

AMERICA= 

O IK., 

kAn help to che La'^ui^eohhcNathef 
in that part of A M e n. I c A, called . 

NEff.SNGL AND. % 

rogethcr. with bricfe Ot/ervMtioni of the Cu- 
' ftoiMes Mannirsand A'orfljips, ^r of the .- 
auttliul •\jn.'!,, ,n IVjcc *nJ Wtfrc, - i, 
inL:feaod Dcjtii. ^-"^ 

Ji all which arc idclcd Spiritual] O^firvAf'mt, 
IGeiiCTaUftnd Particular by the %^nth»ur, of' 

i<ie{c»nJrpeciall'iitc(iipi>H«lli>fCi(ion».Jto • 

yec ptrilant and pi uiicible to 
tlKTicwolaHiiCH:' 



BT ROGER WILLIAMS 

lOKTi I) X. 

Pflfltcd by <»w^*rj 2>^xrfr, 1643. 



1 



124 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

He was over-fond of logical subtleties and delighted in con- 
troversy. There was scarcely any subject about which he 
did not wrangle, from the sinfulness of persecution to the 
propriety of women wearing veils in church. Yet, with all 
this love of controversy, there has perhaps never lived a 
more gentle and kindly soul. Within five years from the 
settlement of Massachusetts this young preacher had an- 
nounced the true principles of religious liberty with a clear- 
ness of insight quite remarkable in that age. Roger Wil- 
liams had been aided in securing an education by the great 
lawyer, Sir Edward Coke, and had lately taken his degree at 
Pembroke College, Cambridge ; but the boldness with which 
he declared his opinions had aroused the hostility of Laud, 
and in 1631 he had come over to Plymouth, whence he 
removed two years later to Salem, and became pastor of the 
church there. The views of Williams, if logically carried 
out, involved the entire separation of church from state, the 
equal protection of all forms of religious faith, the repeal of 
all laws compelling attendance on public worship, the aboli- 
tion of tithes and of all forced contributions to the support 
of religion. Such views are to-day quite generally adopted 
by the more civilized portions of the Protestant world ; but 
it is needless to say that they were not the views of the 
seventeenth century, in Massachusetts or elsewhere. For 
declaring such opinions as these on the continent of Europe, 
anywhere except in Holland, a man like Williams would in 
that age have run great risk of being burned at the stake. 
In England, under the energetic misgovernment of Laud, 
he would very likely have had to stand in the pillory with 
his cars cropped, or perhaps, like Bunyan and Baxter, would 
have been sent to jail. In Massachusetts such views were 
naturally enough regarded as anarchical, but in Williams's 
case tlicy were further complicated by grave political im- 
l)rudence. He wrote a pamphlet in which he denied the 
right of the colonists to the lands which they held in New 
England under the king's grant. He held that the soil 
belonged to the Indians, that the settlers could only obtain 



THK PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 



1 25 



a valid tillt to it by purchase from them, and that the ac- 
ceptance of a patent irom a mere intruder, like the king, 
was a sin requiring pubHc repentance. This doctrine was 
sure to be regarded in ]-Ingland as an attack upon the king's 
su]>remacy over Massachusetts, and at tlic same time an 
incident occurred in Salem which made it all the more un- 
fortunate. The royal colours under which the little coni- 
jnnies of militia marched were emblazoned with the red 
cross of St. George. 
The uncompromising 
Mndicott loathed this 
emblem as tainted 
with l'o]>ery. and one 
day he jHtblicly de- 
faced the flag of the 
Salem Company by 
cutting out the cross. 
The enemies of Mas- 
sachusetts misinter- 
preted this act as a 
defiance aimed at the 
royal authority, and 
they attributed it to 
the teachings ()f Wil- 
liams. In view of the 
king's unfriendliness 
these were dangerous proceedings. Endicott was summoned 
before the General Court at Boston, where he was pnblicly 
reprimanded and declared incapable of holding office for a 
year. A few months afterward, in January, 16^6. Williams 
was ordered by the General Court to come to ]iost<m and 
embark in a .ship that was about to set sail for England. 
Kut he esca]>ed into the forest, and made his way through 
the snow to the wigwam of Massasoit. lie was a rare lin- 
guist, and had learned to talk fluently in the language of the 
Indians, an<l now he |>as,sed the winter in tr>'ing to instil! 
into their ferocious hearts simiething of the gentleness of 




M (.6331 



126 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Christianity. In the spring he was privately notified by 
Winthrop that if he were to steer his course to Narragan- 
sett bay he would be secure from molestation ; and such was 
the beginning of the settlement of Providence.^ 





Shortly before the departure of Williams, there came to 
Boston one of the greatest Puritan statesmen of that heroic 
Hcnr ^^^' ^^^ younger Henry Vane. It is pleasant to 

Vane and remember that the man who did so much to over- 
Hutchin- throw the tyranny of Strafford, who brought the 
*°" military strength of Scotland to the aid of the 

hard-pressed Parliament, who administered the navy with 
which Blake won his astonishing victories, who dared even 
withstand Cromwell at the height of his power when his 
measures became too violent, — it is pleasant to remember 
that this admirable man was once the chief magistrate of an 
American commonwealth. It is pleasant for a Harv^ard man 
to remember that as such he presided over the assembly that 
founded our first university. Thorough republican and en- 
thusiastic lover of liberty, he was spiritually akin to Jefferson 
and to Samuel Adams. Like Williams he was a friend to 
toleration, and like Williams he found Massachusetts an 
uncomfortable home. In 1636 he was only twenty-four 
years of age, "young in years," and perhaps not yet "in 

^ The successor of Williams as pastor of the church in Salem was 
the eccentric Hugh Peters, a man of much ability, whose preaching 
was popular by reason of its coarse but vivid imager)- and quaint jests. 
He was afterward a preacher in the Parliamentary army. After the 
return of Charles II. in 1660, he was executed for high treason. 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 127 

sage counsel old." ' He was chosen governor for that year, 
and his administration was stormy. Among those persons 
who had followed Mr. 
Cotton from Lincoln- 
shire ivas Mrs. Anne 
Hutchinson, a very 
bright and capabli; 
lady, if perhaps some- 
what impulsive and 
indiscreet. She had 
brought over with her, 
says Winthrop, "two 
dangerous errors : 
first, that the pcr.son 
of the Holy Cihost 
dwells in a justified 
person ; second, that 
no sanctificatiun can 
help to evidence to 
us oiir justification," 
Into the merits of such 
abstruse doctrines it 
is not necessary for the historian to enter. One can hardly 
rcpre.ss a smile as one reflects how early in the history of 
Boston some of its characteristic social features were de- 
veloped. It is curious to read of lectures there in 1636, 
lectures by a lady, and transcendentalist lectures withal! 
Never did lectures in Hoston arouse greater excitement 
than Mrs. Hntchins<)n'.s. Many of her hearers forsook the 
teachings of the regu- 
lar ministers, to follow 
her. She was very ef- 
fectively supported by 
" her brother-in-law, Mr, Wheelwright, an eloquent preacher, 
■ and for a while she .seemed to be carrying everything before 

• Milton's noble sonnet is in'rliajjs the finest tribute ever paid by a 
man of letters to a stntcstnan. 




^onrLi4fhtAiiuri9^^ 



128 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

her. She won her old minister, Mr. Cotton, she won the 
stout soldier. Captain Underhill, she won Governor Vane 
himself ; while she incurred the deadly hatred of such men 
as Dudley and Cotton's associate, John Wilson. The church 
at Boston was divided into two hostile camps. The sensible 
VVinthrop marvelled at hearing men distinguished ** by being 
under a covenant of grace or a covenant of works, as in other 
countries between Protestants and Papists," and he ventured 
to doubt whether any man could really tell what the differ- 
ence was. The theological strife went on until it threatened 
to breed civil disaffection among the followers of Mrs. 
Hutchinson. A peculiar bitterness was given to the affair, 
from the fact that she professed to be endowed with the 
spirit of prophecy and taught her partisans that it was their 
duty to follow the biddings of a supernatural light ; and 
there was nothing which the orthodox Puritan so stead- 
fastly abhorred as the anarchical pretence of living by the 
aid of a supernatural light. In a strong and complex society 
the teachings of Mrs. Hutchinson would have awakened but 
a languid speculative interest, or perhaps would have passed 
by unheeded. In the simple society of Massachusetts in 
1636, physically weak and as yet struggling for very exist- 
ence, the practical effect of such teachings niay well have 
been deemed politically dangerous. When things came to 
such a pass that the forces of the colony were mustered 
for an Indian campaign and the men of Boston were ready 
to shirk the service because they suspected their chaplain to 
be "under a covenant of works," it was naturally thought to 
be high time to put Mrs. Hutchinson down. In the spring 
of 1637 Winthrop was elected governor, and in August 
Vane returned to England. His father had at that moment 
more influence with the king than any other person except 
Strafford, and the young man had indiscreetly hinted at an 
appeal to the home government for the protection of the 
Antinomians, as Mrs. Hutchinson's followers were called. 
But an appeal from America to England was something 
which Massachusetts would no more tolerate in the days of 




i:?^ I'v? r^ 




























THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 129 

Winthrop than in the days of Hancock and Adams. Soon 
after Vane's departure, Mrs. Hutchinson and her friends 
were ordered to leave the colony. It was doubtless an 
odious act of persecution, yet of all such acts which stain 
the history of Massachusetts in the seventeenth century, it 
is just the one for which the plea of political necessity may 
really be to some extent accepted. 

We now begin to see how the spreading of the New Kng- 
land colonization and the founding of distinct communities 
were hastened by these differences of opinion on theological 
questions or on questions concerning the relations between 
church and state. Of Mrs. Hutchinson's friends and adher- 
ents, some went northward, and founded the towns of Kxeter 
and Ilampton. Some time before Portsmouth had been set- 
tled by followers of Mason and Gorges, and Dover by the 
the Hilton brothers, Puritans. In 1641 these towns were 
added to the domain of Massachusetts, and so the matter 
stood until 1679, ^vhen we shall see Charles II. marking 
them off as a separate province, under a royal government. 
Such were the beginnings of New llamj)shire. Mrs. Hutch- 
inson herself, however, with William Coddington and other 
adherents, bought the island of Aquedneck from the Indians, 
and settlements were made at Portsmouth and Newport. 
After a quarter of a century of turbulence, these settlements 
coalesced with 

Williams's col- /77L /O .^-^^ 

ony at Provi- r^^jj- / ^J^ 
dence, and thus ^Jii^ L-* 
was formed the 
state of Rhode 
Island. After 

her husband's death in 1642, Mrs. Hutchinson left Aqued- 
neck and settled upon some land to the west of Stamford 
and supposed to be within the territory of New Netherland. 
There in the following year she was cruelly murdered by 
Indians, together with nearly all her children and servants, 
sixteen victims in all. One of her descendants was the 




« 



I30 THE HEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

illustrious Thomas Hutchinson, the first great American his- 
torian, and last royal governor of Massachusetts. 

To the dangers arising from the ill-will of the crown, and 
from these theological quarrels, there was added the danger 
of a general attack by the savages. Down to this time, since 
the landing of the Pilgrims at I'lymonth, the settlers of New 
lingland had been in no way molested by the natives. Mas- 
sasoit s treaty with the I'ilgrims was scrupulously observed 
on both sides, and kept the Wampanoags quiet for fifty- 
four years. The somewhat smaller tribe which took its 
name from the Massa-wacluisctt, or Great Hill, of Milton 
(now called Blue Hill), kejit on friendly terms with the set- 
tlers about Boston, becau.se these red men coveted the 




])inverl"ul aid of the white strangers in case of war with their 
hereditary foe.^i iho Tarratines, who dwelt in the I'iscataqua 
cinintr)-. It was only when the ICnglish began to leave 
!. i-r.im these cuast re;.;ii>ns and press intu the interior that 
",'■' 'j'- tniuhle arosf. The western shores of \arragansctt 

i'.i|Li..i -n- hav were possesseil bv the numerous and warlike 
'"""■"' tribe i>f that name, which held in partial subjection 
the Nyantics near r<.int Judith. Tt> the west of these, and 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 131 

about the Thames river, dwelt the still more formidable 
Pequots, a tribe which for bravery and ferocity asserted a 
preeminence in New England not unlike that which the 
Iroquois league of the Mohawk valley was soon to win over 
all North America east of the Mississippi North of the 
Pequots, the squalid villages of the Nipmucks were scattered 
over the beautiful highlands that stretch in long ridges from 
Quinsigamond ^ to Nichewaug,^ and beyond toward blue 
Monadnock. Westward, in the lower Connecticut valley, 
lived the Mohegans, a small but valiant tribe, now for some 
time held tributary to their Pequot cousins, and very restive 
under the yoke. The thickly wooded mountain ranges be- 
tween the Connecticut and the Hudson had few human 
inhabitants. These hundred miles of crag and forest were 
a bulwark none too wide or strong against the incursions 
of the terrible Mohawks, whose name sent a shiver of fear 
throughout savage New P2ngland, and whose forbearance the 
Nipmucks and Mohegans were fain to ensure by a yearly 
payment of blackmail. Each summer there came two Mo- 
hawk elders, secure in the dread that Iroquois prowess had 
everywhere inspired ; and up and down the Connecticut val- 
ley they seized the tribute of weapons and wampum, and 
proclaimed the last harsh edict issued from the savage coun- 
cil at Onondaga. The scowls that greeted their unwelcome 
visits were doubtless nowhere fiercer than among the Mohe- 
gans, thus ground down between Mohawk and Pequot as 
between the upper and the nether millstone. 

Among the various points in which civilized man surpasses 
the savage none is more conspicuous than the military brute 
force which in the highest civilization is always latent though 
comparatively seldom exerted. The sudden intrusion of Eng- 
lish warfare into the Indian world of the seventeenth century 
may well have seemed to the red men a supernatural visita- 
tion, like the hurricane or the earthquake. The uncompro- 
mising vigour with which the founders of Massachusetts 
carried on their work was viewed in some quarters with a 
'• Worcester. 2 Petersham. 



THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 
■ — 1 dissatisfaction which soon thrust 

J"*^^^! tl"^ English migration into the 

very heart of the Indian country. 
The first movement, however, 
was directed against the en- 
croachments of New Nether- 
land. In October, 16^4, some 
men of llyniouth, led by Wil- 
liam Hohnes, sailed up the Con- 
necticut river, and, after bandy- 
First move- ing threats with a 
Cunncct^" P^rty of Dutch who 
'■" had built a rude fort 

on the site of Hartford, passed 
on and fortified themselves on 
the site of Windsor. Next year 
Woutcr Van Twiller, Director 
of New Nethcrland, sent a com- 
pany of seventy men to drive 
away these intruders, but after 
reconnoitring the situation the 
Dutchmen thought it best not 
to make an attack. 'ITieir little 
stronghold at Hartford remained 
unmolested by the Hnglish, and, 
in order to secure the communi- 
cation between this advanced 
outpost and New Amsterdam, 
Van 'Iwiller clecideil to build an- 
other fort at the mnutli of the 
river, but this time the luiglish 
were beforehand. Humours of 
Dutch designs may have reached 
the cars of I.oril Say-and-Sele 
and Lord Urooke — " fanatic 
Hrooke." as Scott calls him in 
" Marniion " — who had obtained 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 133 

from the Council for New England a grant of territory on 
the shores of the Sound. These noblemen chose as their 
agent the younger John Winthrop, son of the Massachu- 
setts governor, and this new-comer arrived upon the scene 
just in time to drive away Van Twiller's vessel and build an 




English fort which in honour of his two patrons he called 
"Say*Hrooke." 

Had it not been for seeds of discontent already sown in 
Massachusetts, the English hold upon the Connecticut val- 
ley might perhai>s have been for a few years con- nisaH«- 
fined to these two military outpusts at Windsor 'm^j^u 
and Saybrook. But there were people in Massa- '*"" 
chusetts who did not look with favour upon the aristocratic 



134 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

and theocratic features in its polity. The provision that 
none but church-members should vote or hold office was by 
no means unanimously approved. We shall see it in the 
course of another generation putting altogether too much 
temporal power into the hands of the clergy, and we can 
trace the growth of the opposition to it until in the reign 
of Charles II. it becomes a dangerous source of weakness 
to Massachusetts. At the outset the opposition seems to 
have been strongest in Dorchester, Watertown, and " the 
New Town '* (Cambridge). When the Board of Assistants 
undertook to secure for themselves permanency of tenure, 
together with the pow^r of choosing the governor and mak- 
ing the laws, these three towns sent deputies to Boston to 
inspect the charter and see if it authorized any such stretch 
of power. They were foremost in insisting that representa- 
tives chosen by the towns must have a share in the general 
government. Men who held such opinions were naturally 
unwilling to increase the political weight of the clergy, who, 
during these early disputes and indeed until the downfall of 
the charter, were inclined to take aristocratic views and to 
sympathize with the Board of Assistants. Cotton declared 
that democracy was no fit government either for church or 
for commonwealth, and the majority of the ministers agreed 
with him. Chief among those who did not was the learned 

and eloquent Thomas Hooker, pas- 
j^COffjj^ tor of the church at the New Town. 

When Winthrop, in a letter to Hooker, 
defended the restriction of the suffrage on the ground that 
" the best part is always the least, and of that best part the 
wiser part is always the lesser," Hooker replied that "in 
matters which concern the common good, a general council, 
chosen by all, to transact businesses which concern all, I 
conceive most suitable to rule and most safe for relief of 
the whole." It is interesting to meet, on the very thres- 
hold of American history, with such a lucid statement of the 
strongly contrasted views which a hundred and fifty years 
later were to be represented on a national scale by Hamilton 




THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 135 

and Jefferson. There were many in the New Town who took 
Hooker's view of the matter ; and there, as also in Water- 
town and Dorchester, which in 1633 took the initiative in 
framing town governments with selectmen, a strong disposi- 
tion was shown to evade the restrictions upon the suffrage. 

While such things were talked about in the summer of 
1633 the adventurous John Oldham was making his way 
through the forest and over the mountains into the Con- 
necticut valley, and when he returned to the coast his 
glowing accounts set some people to thinking. Two years 
afterward a few pioneers from Dorchester pushed ^ 

^^ *■ Connecti- 

th rough the wilderness as far as the Plymouth cut pio- 
men's fort at Windsor, while a party from Water- 
town went farther and came to a halt upon the site of 
Wethersfield. A larger party, bringing cattle and such goods 
as they could carry, set out in the autumn and succeeded in 
reaching Windsor. Their winter supplies were sent around 
by water to meet them, but early in November the ships had 
barely passed the Saybrook fort when they found the river 
blocked with ice and were obliged to return to Boston. The 
sufferings of the pioneers, thus cut off from the world, were 
dreadful. Their cattle perished, and they were reduced to 
a diet of acorns and ground-nuts. Some seventy of them, 
walking on the frozen river to Saybrook, were so fortunate 
as to find a crazy little sloop jammed in the ice. They suc- 
ceeded in cutting her adrift, and steered themselves back to 
Boston. Others surmounted greater obstacles in struggling 
back through the snow over the region which the Pullman 
car now traverses, regardless of seasons, in three hours. A 
few grim heroes, the nameless founders of a noble common- 
wealth, stayed on the spot and defied starvation. In the 
next June, 1636, the New Town congregation, a hundred or 
more in number, led by their sturdy pastor, and bringing 
with them 160 head of cattle, made the pilgrimage to the 
Connecticut valley. Women and children took part in this 
pleasant summer journey ; Mrs. Hooker, the pastor's wife, 
being too ill to walk, was carried on a litter. Thus, in the 



136 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

memorable year in which our great university was born, did 
Cambridge become, in the true Greek sense of a much- 
abused word, the mctrppolis or ** mother town " of Hartford. 
The migration at once became strong in numbers. During 
the past twelvemonth a score of ships had brought from 
England to Massachusetts more than 3000 souls, and so 
great an accession made further movement easy. Hooker's 
pilgrims were soon followed by the Dorchester and Water- 
town congregations, and by the next May 800 people were 
living in Windsor, Hartford, and Wethersfield. As we 
read of these movements, not of individuals, but of organic 
communities, united in allegiance to a church and its pastor, 
and fer\'id with the instinct of self-government, we seem to 
see Greek history renewed, but with centuries of added 
political training. For one year a board of commissioners 
from Massachusetts governed the new towns, but at the end 
of that time the towns chose representatives and held a 
General Court at Hartford, and thus the separate existence 
of Connecticut was begun. As for Springfield, which was 
settled about the same time by a party from Roxbury, led 
by William Pynchon, it remained for .some years doubtful to 
which state it belonged. At the opening session of the 
General Court, May 31, 1638, Mr. Hooker preached a ser- 
mon of wonderful power, in which he maintained that *' the 
foundation of authority is laid in the free consent of the 
people," "that the choice of public magistrates belongs unto 
the people by God's own allowance," and that " they who 
have power to appoint officers and magistrates have the 
right also to set the bounds and limitations of the power 
and place unto which they call them." On the 14th of 
January, 1639, all the freemen of the three towns assembled 
at Hartford and adopted a written constitution in which 
The first thc hand of the great preacher is clearly discern- 
oTnlmii. ^^^^^'' ^^ ^^ worthy of note that this document 
^'^'" contains none of the conventional references to a 

** dread sovereign" or a "gracious king," nor the slightest 
allusion to the British or any other government outside of 



THK PLANTING OF SEW ENGLAND 137 

Connecticut itself, nor does it prescribe any condition of 
church-membership for the right of suffrage. It was the 
first written constitution known to history, that created a 
government,' and it marked the beginnings of American 




Oi/^^ian^ ^yn/hoTi^ 



democracy, of which Thomas Hooker deserves more than 
any other man to be called the father. The government of 
the United States to-day is in lineal descent more nearly 

1 The compact drawn up in the Mayflower's cabin was not, in the 
strict sense, a constitution, which is a docnment defining and limiting 
the functions o( government. Magna Charta partook of the nature of 
a wrillen constitution, as far as it went, but it did not create a govern- 



I I I 'If I I I 




I k I in 



i ¥ i I i~-r 



I E~i ' 




I40 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

related to that of Connecticut than to that of any of the 
other thirteen colonies. The most noteworthy feature of 
the Connecticut republic was that it was a federation of in- 
dependent towns, and that all attributes of sovereignty not 
expressly granted to the General Court remained, as of origi- 
nal right, in the towns. Moreover, while the governor and 
council were chosen by a majority vote of the whole people, 
and by a suffrage that was almost universal, there was for 
each township an equality of representation in the assem- 
bly.^ This little federal republic was allowed to develop 
peacefully and normally ; its constitution was not violently 
wrenched out of shape like that of Massachusetts at the end 
of the seventeenth century. It silently grew till it became 
the strongest political structure on the continent, as was 
illustrated in the remarkable military energy and the un- 
shaken financial credit of Connecticut during the Revolu- 
tionary War ; and in the chief crisis of the Federal Con- 
vention of 1787 Connecticut, with her compromise which 
secured equal state representation in one branch of the 
national goveniment and popular representation in the other, 
played the controlling part. 

Before the little federation of towns had framed its govern- 
ment, it had its Indian question to dispose of. Three years 
before the migration led by Hooker, a crew of eight traders, 
while making their way up the river to the Dutch station 
on the site of Hartford, had been murdered by a party of 
Indians subject to Sassacus, head war-chief of the Pequots. 
Negotiations concerning this outrage had gone on between 
Sassacus and the government at Boston, and the Pequots 
had promised to deliver up the murderers, but had neglected 
to do so. In the summer of 1636 some Indians on 
ti.7j'*^"<'» lilock Island subject to the Xarragansetts mur- 
^^^'' dered the ]>ioneer John Oldham, who was sailing 

on the Sound, and ca])tured his little vessel. At this, says 
I'nderhill. ** God stirred up the hearts " of Governor Vane 
and the rest of the magistrates. They were determined to 
1 Sec Jolinston's Conturtkut, p. 321, a brilliant book. 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 141 

make an end of the Indian question and show the barharians 
that such things would not be endured. First an embassy 
was sent to Canonicus and his nephew Miantonomo, chief 
sachems of the Narragansetts, who hastened to disclaim all 
responsibility for the murder, and to throw the blame entirely 
upon the Indians of the island. 
Vane then sent out three ves- 
sels under command of Endi- 
cott, who ravaged Hlock Island, 
burning wigwams, sinking' ca 
noes, and slaying dogs, for the men had taken to the woods. 
Endicott then crossed to the mainland to reckon with the 
Poquots. He demanded the surrender of the murderers, 
with a thousand fathoms of wampimi for damages ; and not 
getting a satisfactory answer, he attacked the Indians, killed 
a score of them, seized their ripe corn, and burned and spoiled 
what he could. But such reprisals served only to enrage 
the red men, Lyon (iardiner, commander of the Saybrook 
fort, complained to Endicott : " You come hither to raise 
these wasps about my ears ; then you will take wing and 
llee away." The immediate effect was to incite Sassacus 
to do his utmost to compass the 
ruin of the ICnglish. The super- 
stitious awe with which the white 
men were at first regarded had 
been somewhat lessened by fa- 
miliar contact with them, as in 
/Esop's fable of the fox and the 
lion. The resources of Indian 
diplomacy were e.vhausted in the 
attempt to unite the Narragansett 
warriors with the Pequots in a 
grand cnisade against the white 
men. Such a combination could hardly ha\e been as for- 
midable as that which was effected forty years afterward i-.i 
King Philip's war ; for the savages had not as yet become 
accustomed to firearms, and the English settlements did 




142 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

not present so many points exposed to attack ; but there is 
no doubt that it might have wrought fearful havoc. We 
can, at any rate, find no difficulty in comprehending the 
manifold perplexity of the Massachusetts men at this time, 
threatened as they were at once by an Indian crusade, by 
the machinations of a faithless king, and by a bitter theo- 
logical quarrel at home, in this eventful year when they laid 
aside part of their incomes to establish Harvard College. 

The schemes of Sassacus were unsuccessful. The hered- 
itary enmity of the Narragansetts toward their Pequot 
rivals was too strong to be lightly overcome. Roger Wil- 
Sassaciis liams, taking advantage of this feeling, so worked 
iw^RcMrer upon the minds of the Narragansett chiefs that in 
Williams the autumn of 1636 they sent an embassy to Boston 
and made a treaty of alliance with the English. The Pequots 
were thus left to fight 

out their own quar- >y i r nt//^/ Jfj%7f 

rel ; and had they i I AiT^ ^AC£^^ 7 

still been separated 
from the English by 
the distance between 
Boston and the Thames river, the feud might very likely have 
smouldered until the drift of events had given a different 
shape to it. But as the English had in this very year thrown 
out their advanced posts into the lower Connecticut valley, 
there was clearly no issue from the situation save in deadly 
war. All through the winter of 1636-37 the Connecticut 
towns were kept in a state of alarm by the savages. Men 
going to their work were killed and horribly mangled. A 
•Wethersfiekl man was kidnapped and roasted alive. Embold- 
ened by the success of this feat, the Pequots attacked 
The Pe- Wcthcrsficld, massacrcd ten people, and carried 
thc'wa^r^^*^ awav two girls. Wrought up to desperation by 
vath alone thcsc atrocitics, the Connecticut men appealed to 
Massachusetts and Plymouth for aid, and put into service 
ninety of their own number, under command of John Mason, 
an excellent and sturdy officer who had won golden opinions 




<t<»Y^^^-?<^ 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 143 

from Sir Thomas Fairfax, under whom he had served in 
the Netherlands. It took time to get men from Boston, and 
all that Massachusetts contributed to the enterprise at its 
beginning was that eccentric dare-devil John Underbill, with 
a force of twenty men. Seventy friendly Mohegans, under 
their chief Uncas, eager to see vengeance wrought upon 
their Pequot oppressors, accompanied the expedition. From 
the fort at Saybrook this little company set sail on the 
twentieth of May, 1637, and landed in brilliant moonlight 
near Point Judith, where they 
were reinforced by four hundred 
Narragansctts and Nyantics. 
PVom this point they turned 
westward toward the strong- 
hold of the Pequots, near the place where the town of Ston- 
ington now stands. As they approached the dreaded spot 
the courage of the Indian allies gave out, and they slunk 
behind, declaring that Sassacus was a god whom it was use- 
less to think of attacking. The force with which Mason and 
Underbill advanced to the fray consisted of just seventy- 
seven Englishmen. Their task was to assault and carry an 
entrenched fort or walled village containing seven hundred 
Pequots. The fort was a circle of two or three acres in 
area, girdled by a palisade of sturdy sapling-trunks, set firm 
and deep into the ground, the narrow interstices between 
them serving as loopholes wherefrom to reconnoitre any one 
passing by and to shoot at assailants. At opposite sides 
of this stronghold were two openings barely large enough 
to let any one go through. Within this enclosure were the 
crowded wigwams. The attack was skilfully managed, and 
was a complete surprise. A little before daybreak Mason, 
with sixteen men, occupied one of the doors, while Under- 
bill made sure of the other. The Indians in panic sought 
first one outlet and then the other, and were ruthlessly shot 
down, whichever way they turned. A few succeeded in 
breaking loose, but these were caught and tomahawked by 
the Indian allies, who, -though afraid to take the risks of the 



144 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

fight, were ready enough to help slay the fugitives. The 
English threw firebrands among the wigwams, and soon the 
whole village was in a light blaze, and most of the savages 

suffered, albeit in abridged and therefore compara- 
extermi- tively merciful form, the horrible death which they 

were so fond of inflicting upon their captives. Of 
the seven hundred Pequots in the stronghold, but five got 
away with their lives. All this blo(xly work had been done 
in less than an hour, and of the English there had been two 
killed and sixteen wounded. It was the end of the Pequot 
nation. Of the remnant which had not been included in this 
whole.sale slaughter, most were soon afterwards destroyed 
piecemeal in a running fight which extended as far westward 
as the site of Eairfield. Sassacus fled across the Hudson 
river to the Mohawks, who slew him and sent his scalp to 
Boston, as a peace-offering to the English. The survivors 
were divided between the Mohegans and Narragansetts and 
adopted into those tribes. Truly the work was done with 
Cromwellian thoroughness. The tribe which had lorded it 
so fiercely over the New ICngland forests was all at once 
wiped out of existence. So terrible a vengeance the Indians 
had never heard of. If the name of Pequot had hitherto 
been a name of terror, so now did the Englishmen win the 
inheritance of that deadly prestige. Not for cight-and-thirty 
years after the destruction of the Pequots, not until a gen- 
eration of red men had grown up that knew not Underbill 
and Mason, did the Indian of New lingland dare again to 
lift his hand aijrainst the white man. 

Such scenes of wholesale slaughter are not pleasant read- 
ing in this milder age. But our forefathers felt that the 
wars of Canaan afforded a sound precedent for such cases ; 
and, indeed, if we remember what the soldiers of Tilly and 
Wallenstein were (loin<( at this verv time in Germanv, we 
shall realize that the work of Mason and L'nderhill would 
not have ])cen felt ])y any one in that age to merit censure 
or stand in need of excuses. As a matter of practical policy 
the annihilation of the Pequots can be condemned only bv 



w^np 



rr- 




Piifip 



•TF- 



THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 145 

those who read history so incorrectly as to suppose that 
savages, whose business is to torture and slay, can always 
be dealt with according to the methods in use between civil- 
ized peoples. A mighty nation, like the United States, is 
in honour bound to treat the red man with scrupulous justice 
and refrain from cruelty in punishing his delinquencies. 
But if the founders of Connecticut, in confronting a danger 
which threatened their very existence, struck with savage 
fierceness, we cannot blame them. The world is so made 
that it is only in that way that the higher races hav-e been 
able to preserve themselves and carry on their progressive 
work. 

The overthrow of the Pequots was a cardinal event in the 
planting of New England. It removed the chief obstacle to 
the colonization of the Connecticut coast, and brought the 
inland settlements into such unimpeded communication with 
those on tide- water as to prepare the way for the formation 
of the New England confederacy. Its first fruits were seen 
in the direction taken by the next wave of migration, which 
ended the Puritan exodus from England to America. About 
a month after the storming of the palisaded village there 
arrived in Boston a company of wealthy London merchants, 
with their families. The most prominent amon^: ,.., , 

1 T-i 1 •! T^ '^ I he colony 

them, Theophilus Eaton, was a member of the of New 
Company of Massachusetts Bay. Their pastor, 
John Davenport, was an eloquent preacher and a maa of 
power. He was a graduate of Oxford, and in 1624 had 
been chosen vicar of St. Stephen's parish, in Coleman street, 
London. When he heard that Cotton and Hooker were 
about to sail for Ariierica, he sought earnestly to turn them 
from what he deemed the error of their ways, but in- 
stead he became converted himself and soon incurred the 
especial enmity of Laud, so that it became necessary for 
him to flee to Amsterdam. In 1636 he returned to Eng- 
land, and in concert with Eaton organized a scheme of emi- 
gration that included men from Yorkshire, Hertfordshire, 
and Kent. The leaders arrived in Boston in the midst of 



THE BECINMNGS OF NEW ENGLAND 




('fi39) 



the Antinomian disputes, and although Davenport won 
admiration for his skill in battling with heresy, he may per- 
haps have deemed it preferable to lead hjs flock to some new 
spot in the wilderness where such warfare might not be re- 
quired. The merchants desired a fine harbour and good 
commercial situation, and the reports of the men who re- 
turned from hunting the I'equots told them of just such a 
spot at Ouinnipiack on I»ng Island Sound. Here they 
could carry out their plan of putting into practice a theo- 
cratic ideal even more rigid than that which obtained in 
Massachusetts, and arrange their civil as well as ecclesiasti- 
cal affairs in accordance with rules to be obtained from a 
minute study of the Scriptures. 

In the spring of 163S the town of New Haven was accoV-d- 
ingly founded. The ne.xt year a swarm from this new town 
settled Milford. while another party, freshly arrived from 
England, nia<le the beginnings of Guilford. In 1640 Stam- 
ford was added to the group, and in id^^ the four towns 
were united into the republic of \ew Haven, to which 
SiHithoId, on Long Island, and Branford were afterwards 
added. As being a confederation of indciwndcnt towns, 



New-Haven ' s 

Settling in- 

NEW-ENGLAND. 

LA WES 

FOR 

GOyERNMENT: 

PublilTial for the Ufc of that Colony, 



Though ionic oi the Orders intended Ibr 

pteleiu convenience, may probably 

be hcicaUer altered, and as 

need fcqnireth other 

Lawcs added. 



' L O N D ■'N; 

Piilitcd by i-M.s. for LivcanS cljpm^jt^ at tj^ 

CTifimt io PePfj'-kt'jiJ-AUcy, 

1656. 

_ ^ :,r:- z.:^i.: 



148 THK HEGIXNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

New Haven resembled Connecticut. In other respects the 
differences between the two reflected the differences be- 
tween Davenport and Hooker ; the latter was what would 
now be called more radical than Winthrop or Cotton, the 
former was more conservative. In the New Haven colony 
none but church-members could vote, and this measure at 
the outset disfranchised more than half the settlers in New 
Haven town, nearly half in Guilford, and less than one fifth 
in Milford. This result was practically less democratic than 
in Massachusetts, where it was some time before the dis- 
franchisement attained such dimensions. The power of the 
clergy reached its extreme point in New Haven, where each 
of the towns was governed by seven ecclesiastical officers 
known as "pillars of the church." These magistrates served 
as judges, and trial by jury was dispensed with, because no 
authority could be found for it in the laws of Moses. The 
lcgi.slation was quaint enough, though the famous " Blue 
Laws" of New Haven, which have been made the theme of 
so many jests at the expense of our forefathers, never really 
_, , existed. The story of the Blue Laws was first 

Legend of -' 

thc'-Hiuc published in 1781 by the Rev. Samuel Peters, a 
Tory refugee in London, who took delight in hor- 
rifying our British cousins with tales of wholesale tarring and 
feathering done by the patriots of the Revolution. In point 
of strict veracity Dr. Peters reminds one of Baron Munchau- 
sen ; he declares that the river at Bellows Falls flows so fast 
as to float iron crowbars, and he gravely describes sundry 
animals who were evidently cousins to the Jabberwok. The 
most famous passage of his pretended code is that which 
enacts that "no woman shall kiss her child on the Sabbath," 
and that '* no one shall play on any instrument of music 
except the drum, trum|)ct, or jewsharp." 

When the Long Parliament met in 1640. the Puritan 

Emi..f tho ^*-'^^^^^"'' ^^^ ^'^'^^' I'-ngl^'ind came to an end. During 
Puritan the twcutv vcars which had elapsed since the voy- 
age of the Mayflower, the population had grown 
ti) 26,000 souls. Oi this number scarcely 500 had arrived 




THE PLANTING OF NEW ENGLAND 149 

before 1629. It is a striking fact, since it expresses a causal 
relation and not a mere coincidence, that the eleven years, 
1629-1640, during which Charles I. governed England with- 
out a Parliament, were the same eleven years that witnessed 
the planting of New England. For more than a century 
after this there was no considerable migration to this part 
of North America. Puritan England now found employ- 
ment for all its energies and all its enthusiasm at home. 
The struggle with the king and the efforts toward reorgani- 
zation under Cromwell were to occupy it for another score 
of years, and then, by the time of the Restoration the youth- 
ful creative energy of Puritanism had spent itself. The in- 
fluence of this great movement was indeed destined to grow 
wider and deeper with the progress of civilization, but after 
1660 its creative work began to run in new channels and 
assume different forms. 

It is curious to reflect what might have been the re- 
sult, to America and to the world, had things in England 
gone differently between 1620 and 1660. Had the 
policy of James and Charles been less formidable, might have 
the Puritan exodus might never have occurred, and 
the Virginian type of society, varied perhaps by a strong 
Dutch infusion, might have become supreme in America. 
The western continent would have lost in richness and vari- 
ety of life, and it is not likely that luirope would have made 
a corresponding gain, for the moral effect of the challenge, 
the struggle, and the overthrow of monarchy in England 
was a stimulus sorely needed by neighbouring peoples. It is 
not always by avoiding the evil, it is rather by grappling with 
it and conquering it that character is strengthened and life 
enriched, and there is no better example of this than the 
history of England in the seventeenth century. 

On the other hand, if the Stuart despotism had triumphed 
in England, the Puritan exodus would doubtless have been 
swelled to huge dimensions. New England would have 
gained strength so quickly that much less irritation than she 
actually suffered between 1664 ^^^^ 1689 would probably 










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152 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

have goaded her into rebellion. The war of independence 
might have been waged a century sooner than it was. It is 
not easy to point to any especial advantage that could have 
come to America from this ; one is rather inclined to think 
of the peculiarly valuable political training of the eighteenth 
centur)' that would have been lost. Such surmises are for 
the most part idle. But as concerns Europe, it is plain to be 
seen, for reasons stated in my first chapter, that the decisive 
victory of Charles I. would have been a calamity of the first 
magnitude. It would have been like the Greeks losing 
Marathon or the Saracens winning Tours, supposing the 
worst consequences ever imagined in those hypothetical 
cases to have been realized. Or taking a more contracted 
view, we can see how England, robbed of her Puritan ele- 
ment, might still have waxed in strength, as France has 
done in spite of losing the Huguenots ; but she could not 
have taken the proud position that she has come to occupy 
as mother of nations. Her preeminence since Cromweirs 
time has been chiefly due to her unrfvalled power of planting 
self-supporting colonies, and that ix)wer has had its roots in 
English self-government. It is the vitality of the English 
Idea that is making the language of Cromwell and Washing- 
ton dominant in the world. 




CHAPTER IV 

THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 

The Puritan exodus to New England, which came to an 
end about 1640, was purely and exclusively English. There 
was nothing in it that came from the continent of Europe, 
nothing that was either Irish or Scotch, very little that was 
Welsh. As Palfrey says, the population of 26,000 
that had been planted in New England by 1640 was purely 
" thenceforward continued to multiply on its own "^' ** 
soil for a century and a half, in remarkable seclusion from 
other communities." During the whole of this period New 
England received but few immigrants ; and it was not until 
after the Revolutionary War that its people had fairly started 
on their westward march into the state pf New York and 
beyond, until now, after yet another century, we find some 
of their descendants dwelling in a homelike Salem and a 
Portland of charming beauty on the Pacific coast. Three 
times between the meeting of the Long Parliament and the 
meeting of the Continental Congress did the New England 
colonies receive a slight infusion of non-luiglish blood. In 
1652, after his victories at Dunbar and Worcester, Crom- 
well sent 270 of his Scottish prisoners to Boston, where the 
descendants of some of them still dwell. After the revoca- 
tion of the P!dict of Nantes in 1685, 150 families of Hugue- 
nots came to Massachusetts. And finally in 1719, 120 
Presbyterian families came over from the north of Ireland, 
and settled at Londonderry in New Hampshire, and else- 
where. In view of these facts it may be said that there is 
not a county in iMigland of which the population is more 
purely English than the population of New luigland at the 
end of the eighteenth century. From long and careful re- 



154 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

search, Mr. Savage, the highest authority on this subject, 
concludes that more than 98 in 100 of the New England 
people at that time could trace their origin to England in 
the narrowest sense, excluding even Wales. As already 
observed, every English shire contributed something to the 
emigration, but there was a marked preponderance of people 
from the East Anglian counties. 

The population of New England was nearly as homoge- 
neous in social condition as it was in blood. The emigra- 
tion was preeminent for its respectability. Like the be^t 
Respecta- part of the emigration to Virginia, it consisted 
ter of ^hT largely of country squires and yeomen. The men 
emigration ^^q followed Winthrop were thrifty and prosper- 
ous in their old homes from which their devotion to an 
idea made them voluntary exiles. They attached so much 
importance to regular industry and decorous behaviour that 
for a long time the needy and shiftless people who usually 
make trouble in new colonies were not tolerated among 
them. Hence the early history of New England is remark- 
ably free from those scenes of violence and disorder which 
have so often made hideous the first years of new commu- 
nities. Of negro slaves there were very few, and these 
were employed wholly in domestic service ; there were not 
enough of them to affect the industrial life of New England 
or to be worth mentioning as a class. Neither were there 
many of the wretched people, kidnapped from the jails and 
slums of English seaports, such as in those early days when 
negro labour was scarce, were sent by ship-loads to Virginia, 
to become the progenitors of the "white trash." There 
were a few indented white servants, usually of the class 
known as ** rcdemptioners," or immigrants who voluntarily 
bound themselves to service for a stated time in order to 
defray the cost of their voyage from Europe. At a later 
time there were many of these "rcdemptioners" in the mid- 
dle colonies, but in New England they were very few ; and 
as no stigma of servitude was attached to manual labour, 
they were apt at the end of their terms of service to become 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY ' 155 

independent farmers ; thus they ceased to be recognizable 
as a distinct class of society. Nevertheless the common 
statement that no traces of the "mean white" are to be 
found in New England is perhaps somewhat too sweeping. 
Interspersed among those respectable and tidy mountain 
villages, once full of such vigorous life, one sometimes 
comes upon little isolated groups of wretched hovels whose 
local reputation is* sufficiently indicated by such terse epi- 
thets as "Hardscrabble " or " Hellhuddle." Their denizens 
may in many instances be the degenerate offspring of a 
sound New England stock, but they sometimes show strong 
points of resemblance to that " white trash " which has 
come to be a recognizable strain of the English race; and 
one cannot help suspecting that while the New England 
colonics made every effort to keep out such riff raff, it may 
nevertheless have now and then crept in. However this 
may be, it cannot be said that this element ever formed a 
noticeable feature in the life of colonial New England. As 
regards their social derivation, the settlers of New England 
were homogeneous in character to a remarkable degree, and 
they were drawn from the sturdiest part of the English 
stock. In all history there has been no other instance of 
colonization so exclu- 
sively effected by 
picked and chosen 
men. The colonists 
knew this, and were 

proud of it, as well they might be. It was the simple truth 
that was spoken by William Stoughton when he said, in his 
election sermon of 1688 : "God sifted a whole nation, that 
He might send choice grain into the wilderness." 

This matter comes to have more than a local interest, 
when we reflect that the 26,000 New Englanders of 1640 
have in two centuries and a half increased to something like 
20,000,000. From tliese men have come at least one fourth 
of the present population of the United States. Striking 
as this fact may seem, it is perhaps less striking than the 



vux/^Vi'^'^ ^ro^A^y^oyk^. 



156 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

fact of the original migratiun when duly considered. In 
these times, when great steamers sail every clay from Eu- 
ropean ports, bringing immigrants to a country not less 
advanced in material civilization than the cmintry which 
they leave, the daily arrival of a thousand new citizens has 
come to be a commonplace event. But in the seventeenth 




century the transfer of more than twenty thousand well- 
to-do people within twenty years from their comfortable ■ 
homes in England to the American wilderness was by no 
means a commonplace event. It reminds one of the migra- 
ti >ns of ancient pe<iplcs, and in the quaint thought of our 
fnrefathcrs it was aptly likened to the extxhis of Israel from 
the ICgyjUian house of l)ondage. 

In this migration a principle of selection was at work 
which insured an extraordinary uniformity of character and 
of pur])ose among the settlers. Tn this uniformity of pur- 
pose, conii)ined with complete homogeneity of race, is due 



41 



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THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 159 

the preponderance early acquired by New England in the 
history of the American people. In view of this, it is worth 
while to inquire what were the real aims of the settlers 
of New England. What was the common purpose which 
brought these men together in their resolve to create for 
themselves new homes in the wilderness ? 

This is a point concerning which there has been a great 
deal of popular misapprehension, and there has been no end 
of nonsense talked about it. It has been customary first 
to assume that the Puritan migration was under- ^j^^ ^^^ 
taken in the interests of relierious liberty, and then t»on was 

*^ ^ not in- 

to upbraid the Puritans for forgetting all about re- tended to 

ligious liberty as soon as people came among them whaT° ^ 
who disagreed with their opinions. But this view JJ^^igfous 
of the case is not supported by history. It is quite liberty 
true that the Puritans were chargeable with gross intoler- 
ance ; but it is not true that in this they were guilty of 
inconsistency. The notion that they came to New England 
for the purpose of establishing religious liberty, in any sense 
in which we should understand such a phrase, is entirely 
incorrect. It is neither more nor less than a bit of popular 
legend. If we mean by the phrase "religious liberty" a 
state of things in which opposite or contradictory opinions 
on questions of religion shall exist side by side in the same 
community, and in which everybody shall decide for himself 
how far he will conform to the customary religious observ- 
ances, nothing could have been further from their thoughts. 
There is nothing they would have regarded with more gen- 
uine abhorrence. If they could have been forewarned by a 
prophetic voice of the general freedom — or, as they would 
have termed it, license — of thought and behaviour which 
prcv^ails in this country to-day, they would very likely have 
abandoned their enterprise in despair.^ The philosophic 
student of history often has occasion to see how God is 
wiser than man. In other words, he is often brought to 
realize how fortunate it is that the leaders in great historic 
^ See the passionate exclamation of Endicott, below, p. 216. 



i6o THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

events cannot foresee the remote results of the labours to 
which they have zealously consecrated their lives. It is part 
of the irony of human destiny that the end we really accom- 
plish by striving with might and main is apt to be some- 
thing quite different from the end we dreamed of as we 
started on our arduous labour. So it was with the Puritan 
settlers of New England. The religious liberty that we 
enjoy to-day is largely the consequence of their work ; but it 
is a consequence that was unforeseen, while the direct and 
conscious aim of their labours was something that has never 
been realized, and probably never will be. 

The aim of Winthrop and his friends in coming to Mas- 
sachusetts was the construction of a theocratic state which 
should be to Christians, under the New Testament dispen- 
sation, all that the theocracy of Moses and Joshua and 

Samuel had been to the Jews in Old Testament 
ideal of the days. They should be to all intents and purposes 

freed from the jurisdiction of the Stuart king, and 
so far as jxjssible the text of the Holy Scriptures should be 
their guide both in weighty matters of general legislation 
and in the shaping of the smallest details of daily life. In 
such a scheme there was no room for religious liberty as we 
understand it. No doubt the text of the Scriptures may be 
interpreted in many ways, but among these men there was 
a substantial agreement as to the important points, and 
nothing could have been further from their thoughts than to 
found a colony which should afford a field for new experi- 
ments in the art of right living. The state they were to 
found was to consist of a united body of believers ; citizen- 
ship itself was to be co-extensive with church-membership ; 
and in such a state there was apparently no more room for 
heretics than there was in Rome or Madrid. This was the 
idea which drew Winthrop and his followers from England at 
a time when — as events were soon to show — they might 
have stayed there and defied persecution with less trouble 
than it cost them to cross the ocean and found a new state. 
Such an ideal as this, considered by itself and apart from 



THE NEW EXCLAND CONFEDERACY i6i 




the concrete acts in which it was historically manifested, 
may seem like the merest fanaticism. Hut we cannot dis- 
miss in this summary way a movement which ha.s been at 
the source of so much that is jjreat in American history : 
mere fanaticism has never produced such substantial results. 
Merc fanaticism is sure to aim at changing the constitution 
of human society in some essential point, to undo the work 
of evolution, and offer in some indistinctly apprehended 
fashittn to remodel human life. Hut in the.se respects the 
Puritans were intensely consen^ative. The impulse hy 
which they were animated was a profoundly ethical Tiwim- 
impui.se — the desire to lead godly lives, and to i"ii>t"hich 
drive <n\t sin from the community — the .same rtaiiie it- 
ethical impulse which animates the glowing pages i>„ritui 
of Hebrew poets and projihets, and which has given a^li^ 
ti> the history and literature of Israel their com- i™!™'" 
manding influence in the world. The Greek, says Matthew 



i62 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Arnold, held that the perfection of happiness was to have 
one's thoughts hit the mark ; but the Hebrew held that it 
was to serve the Lord day and night. It was a touch of 
this inspiration that the Puritan caught from his earnest 
and reverent study of the sacred text, and that ser\ed to 
justify and intensify his yearning for a better life, and to 
give it the character of a grand and holy ideal. Yet with 
all this religious enthusiasm, the Puritan was in every fibre 
a practical Englishman with his full share of plain com- 
mon-sense. He avoided the error of mediaeval anchorites 
and mystics in setting an exaggerated value upon other- 
worldliness. In his desire to win a crown of glory hereafter 
he did not forget that the present life has its simple duties, 
in the exact performance of which the welfare of society 
mainly consists. He likewise avoided the error of modern 
radicals who would remodel the fundamental institutions of 
property and of the family, and thus disturb the very ground- 
work of our ethical ideals. The Puritan's ethical conception 
of society was simply that which has grown up in the natural 
course of historical evolution, and which in its essential 
points is therefore intelligible to all men, and approved by 
the common-sense of men, however various may be the ter- 
minology — whether theological or scientific — in which it 
is expounded. For these reasons there was nothing essen- 
tially fanatical or impracticable in the Puritan scheme : in 
substance it was something that great bodies of men could 
at once put into practice, while its quaint and peculiar form 
was something that could be easily and naturally outgrown 
and set aside. 

Yet another point in which the Puritan scheme of a theo- 
cratic societv was rational and not fanatical was its method 
of interpreting the Scriptures. That method was 
preting essentially rationalistic in two ways. Plrst, the 
'th?K"rhin I^^i^itan laid no claim to the possession of any 
api)caiedto peculiar inspiration or divine lii^ht whereby he 

his rc.i>rtn ' ^ * r» y 

might be aided in ascertaining the meaning of the 
sacred text ; but he used his reason just as he would in 




THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 



■63 



any malter of business, and he sought to convince, and ex- 
pected to be convinced, by rational argument, and by nothing 
else. Secondly, it followed from this denial of any peculiar 
inspiration that there was no room in the Puritan common- 
wealth for anything like a priestly class, and that every 
individual must hold his own opinions at his own personal 
risk. The consequences of this rationalistic spirit have been 
far-reaching. In the conviction that religious opinion must 




be consonant with reason ind that religious truth must be 
brought home to eich induidual by ntiouAl argument we 
may find one of the chief causes of that peculiarly conserva 
live yet flexible intelligence which has enabled the Puritan 
countries to take the lead in the civilized world of to-day. 
Free discussion of theological questions, when conducted 
with earnestness and reverence, and within certain generally 
acknowledged limits, was never discountenanced in New 
England. On the contrary, there has never been a society 
in the world in which theological problems have been so 
seriously and persistently discussed as in New England in 
the colonial period. The long sermons of the clergymen 
were usually learned and elaborate arguments of doctrinal 
points, bristling with quotations from the Bible, or from 



i64 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

famous bo^jks of controversial divinity, and in the lon^ 
winter evenings the questions thus raised afforded the occa- 
sion for lively debate in every household. The clergj' were. 
as a rule, men of learning, able to read both Old and New 
Testaments in the original languages, and familiar with the 
best that had been talked and written, among Protestants at 
least, on theological subjects. They were also, lor the most 
part, men of lofty character, and they were held in high 
social esteem on account of their character and scholarship, 
as well as on account of their clerical iX)sition. But in spite 
of the reverence in which thev were commonlv held, it 
would have been a thing quite unheard of for one of these 
pastors to urge an opinion from the pulpit on the sc»le 
ground of his personal authority or his sujx-rior knowledge 
of Scriptural exegesis. The hearers, to<», were quick to 
detect novelties or variations in doctrine ; and while there 
was perhaps no more than the r^rdinary human unwillingness 
to listen to a new thought merely because of its newness, it 
was above all thin;is needful that the orthodox soundness of 
every new suggestion should be thoroughly and severely 
tested. l'hi> intense interest in doctrinal theology was part 
and parcel of the whole theory of New England life; be- 
cause, as I have said, it was taken for granted that each 
individual xxwx-A hold his own opinions at his own personal 
risk in the world to come. 

Such perjietiial discussion, conducted under such a stimu- 
-. , , Ins, afforded in itself no mean school nf intellectual 
ih^T'OcJ'-ii training. X'iewed in relation to the subsequent* 
menial activity of New hngland, it may be said to 
have ocrujjieri a position somewhat similar to that which the 
polemics of the media.val sch'jolmen occupied in relation to 
the European thought of the Renaissance, and ^f the age of 
Hobbes and Descartes. At the same time the Puritan the- 
ory of life lay at the bottom of the whole system "f jx'pular 
education in New l-^i inland. Accord in ;r tn that theorv, it 
was ab'^o]utelV e^^ential that everv (»ne should be taught 
from earlv childhncd how to read and understand the Bible. 




THE NEW ENGLANH CONFEDERACY 




So much iiistriictiim a?; this wns assiimeil to be a sacred 
duty which the community owed to every child born within 
its jurisdiction. In i{;ni>rance, the Puritans maintained, lay 
the principal strength of popery in religion as well as of 
despotism in politics ; and so, to the best of their lights, 
they cultivated knowledge with might and main. Hut in 
this energetic diffusion of knowledtje they were unwittingly 
preparing the complete and irre]jarable destruction of the 
theocratic ideal of society which they had sought to realize 
by crossing the ocean and settling in New Kngland. This 
universal education and this per[K.'tual discussion of theologi- 
cal questions were no more compatible with rigid adherence 



i66 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

to the Calvinistic system than with submission to the abs*^*- 
lute rule of Rome. The inevitable result was the liberal 
and enlightened Protestantism which is characteristic of the 
best American society at the present day, and which is con- 
tinually growing more liberal as it grows more enlightened 
— a Protestantism which, in the natural course of develop- 
ment, is coming to realize the noble ideal of Roger Williams, 
but from the very thought of which such men as Winthrop 
and Cotton and Kndicott would have shrunk with dismay. 

In this connection it is interesting to note the similarity 
between the experience of the Puritans in New tlngland 
and in Scotland with respect to the influence of their reli- 
gious theor)' of life upon general education. Nowhere has 
Puritanism, with its keen intelligence and its iron tenacity 
of purpose, played a greater part than it has played in the 
history of Scotland. And one need not fear contradiction in 
saying that no other j)e()ple in modern times, in proportion 
to their numbers, have achieved so much in all departments 
Conipari- of humau activity as the people of Scotland have 
the ^"^ of achieved. It would be superfluous to mention the 
Scotland preeminence of Scotland in the industrial arts since 
the days of James Watt, or to recount the glorious names in 
philosophy, in history, in poetry and romance, and in every 
department of science, which since the middle of the eigh- 
teenth century have made the country of Burns and Scott, of 
Hume and Adam Smith, of Black and Hunter and Hutton 
and Lyell, illustrious for all future time. Now this period 
of magnificent intellectual fruition in Scotland was preceded 
by a period of Calvinistic orthodoxy quite as rigorous as that 
of New Kngland. The ministers of the Scotch Kirk in the 
seventeenth century cherished a theocratic ideal of society 
not unlike that which the colonists of New England aimed 
at realizing. There was the same austerity, the same intol- 
erance, the same narrowness of interests, in Scotland that 
there was in New Kngland. Mr. Buckle, in the book which 
forty years ago seemed so great and stimulating, gave us a 
graphic picture of this state of society, and the only thing 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 167 

which he could find to say about it, as the result of his 
elaborate survey, was that the spirit of the Scotch Kirk was 
as thoroughly hostile to human progress as the spirit of the 
Spanish Inquisition ! If this w^ere really so, it would be 
difficult indeed to account for the period of brilliant mental 
activity which immediately followed. But in reality the 
Puritan theory of life led to general education in Scotland 
as it did in New England, and for precisely the same rea- 
sons, while the effects of theological discussion in breaking 
down the old Calvinistic exclusiveness have been illustrated 
in the history of Edinburgh as well as in the history of 
Boston. 

It is well for us to bear in mind the foregoing considera- 
tions as we deal with the history of the short-lived New 
England Confederacy. The story is full of instances of an 
intolerant and domineering spirit, especially on the part of 
Massachusetts, and now and then this spirit breaks forth 
in ugly acts of persecution. In considering these facts, it 
is well to remember that we are observing the workings of a 
system which contained within itself a curative principle ; 
and it is further interesting to observe how political circum- 
stances contributed to modify the Puritan ideal, gradually 
breaking down the old theocratic exclusiveness and strength- 
ening the spirit of religious liberty. 

Scarcely had the first New Tlngland colonies been estab- 
lished when it was found desirable to unite them into some 
kind of a confederation. It is worthy of note that the 
separate existence of so many colonies was at the outset 
largely the result of religious differences. The uniformity 
of purpose, great as it was, fell far short of completeness. 
Could all have agreed, or had there been religious Existence 
toleration in the modern sense, there was still room o^ Romany 

colonies 

enough for all in Massachusetts; and a compact due to 
settlement would have been in much less danger g/ousdif- 
from the Indians. But in the founding of Connect- ^^"^"^^^ 
icut the theocratic idea had less weight, and in the found- 
ing of New Haven it had more weight, than in Massachu- 



i68 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

setts. The existence of Rhode Island was based upon that 
principle of full toleration which the three colonies just 
mentioned alike abhorred, and its first settlers were people 
banished from Massachusetts. With regard to toleration 
Plymouth occupied a middle ground ; without admitting the 
principles of Williams, the people of that colony were still 
fairly tolerant in practice. Of the four towns of New Hamp- 
shire, two had been founded by Antinomians driven from 
Boston, one by other Puritans, and one by Episcopal friends 
of Mason and Gorges. It was impossible that neighbouring 
communities, characterized by such differences of opinion, 
but otherwise homogeneous in race and in social condition, 
should fail to react upon one another and to liberalize one 
another. Still more was this true when they attempted to 
enter into a political union. When, for example, Massachu- 
setts in 1641-43 annexed the New Hampshire townships, 
she was of necessity obliged to relax in their case her policy 
of insisting upon religious conformity as a test of citizenship. 
So in forming the New England Confederacy, there were 
some matters of dispute that had to be passed over by mutual 
consent or connivance. 

The same causes which had spread the English settle- 
ments over so wide a territory now led, as an indirect result, 
to their partial union into a confederacy. The immediate 
consequence of the westward movement had been an Indian 
war. Several barbarous tribes were now interspersed be- 
tween the settlements, so that it became desirable that the 
It led to a military force should be brought, as far as possible, 
""tempt at ^"ider one management. The colony of New Neth- 
federation erland, morcovcr, had begun to assume importance, 
and the settlements west of the C(^nnecticut river had already 
occasioned hard words between Dutch and English, which 
might at any moment be followed by blows. In the French 
colonies at the north, with their extensive Indian alliances 
under Jesuit guidance, the Puritans saw a rival power which 
was likely in course of time to prove troublesome. With a 
view to more efficient self-defence, therefore, in 1643 the 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 



169 



four colonies of Massachusetts, Plymouth, Connecticut, and 
New Haven formetl themselves into a league, under the 
style of "The United Colonies of New Kngland." These 
four little states now contained thirty-nine towns, with an 
aggregate population of 24,000, To the northeast of Massa- 
chusetts, which now extended to the Fiscataqua, a small 
colony had at length been constituted under a proprietary 
charter somewhat similar to that held by the Calverts in 
Maryland. Of this new province or palatinate of Maine the 





■'■'^ri^-ii:'^'^ 


:?mmi 




^^-%^--,Jl 


1^ 


^.-11, 



aged Sir Ferdinand© Gorges was Lord Proprietary, and he 
had undertaken not only to establish the Church of England 
there, but also to introduce usages of feudal jurisdiction like 
those remaining in the old country. Such a community was 
not likely to join the Confederacy ; apart from other rea- 
sons, its proprietary constitution and the feud between the 
Puritans and Gorges would have been sufficient obstacles. 
As for Rhode Island, on the other hand, it was regarded 



170 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

with strong dislike by the other colonies. It was a curious 
and noteworthy consequence of the circumstances under 
which this little state was founded, that for a long time it 
Turbulence became the refuge of all the fanatical and turbu- 
\n Rhode ^^^^ people who could not submit to the strict and 
Island orderly governments of Connecticut or Massachu- 
setts. All extremes met on Narragansett bay. There were 
not only sensible advocates of religious liberty, but theocrats 
as well who saw flaws in the theocracy of other Puritans. 
The English world was then in a state of theological fermen- 
tation. People who fancied themselves favoured with direct 
revelations from Heaven ; people who thought it right to 
keep the seventh day of the week as a Sabbath instead of 
the first day ; people who cherished a special predilection 
for the Apocalypse and the Book of Daniel ; people with 
queer views about property and government ; people who 
advocated either too little marriage or too much marriage ; 
all such eccentric characters as are apt to come to the sur- 
face in periods of religious excitement found in Rhode Island 
a favoured spot where they could prophesy without let or 
hindrance. But the immediate practical result of so much 
discordance in opinion was the impossibility of founding a 
strong and well-ordered government. The early history of 
Rhode Island was marked by enough of turbulence to sug- 
gest the question whether, after all, at the bottom of the 
Puritan's refusal to recognize the doctrine of private inspira- 
tion, or to tolerate indiscriminately all sorts of opinions, 
there may not have been a grain of shrewd political sense 
not ill adapted to the social condition of the seventeenth 
century. In 1644 and again in 1648 the Narragansett set- 
tlers asked leave to join the Confederacy ; but the request 
was refused on the ground that they had no stable govern- 
ment of their own. They were offered the alternative of 
voluntary annexation either to Massachusetts or to Plymouth, 
or of staying out in the cold ; and they chose the latter 
course. Early in 1643 they had sent Roger Williams over 
to England to obtain a charter for Rhode Island. In that 




WHOLE ^^ 

BOOKEOFPSALMSS C^H 

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TRAMSLATEO mt* ENGLISH r-h»i 

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V^^ Wl>ereuntoi« prefixed a difcoarftde- ^ jl; 
'^rqchring notody the Uwfullnes, bucairopj^ 




' the neceflity of chc heavenly Ordinance ^(J^ 

} ^r J of lingiog scripture Plalmes in h jF , 

\:vS the Churches of '^ 

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^fo LetiVeweriofGoiJtwetfIenti9ufljin ^i^. 

. JiT J^»^iin mil vfifiemiyteAchinr and exhort* p^v't 

v' ' i*".* »«f ««^ another in ?falmcs^n$fnnety and ^f^*^ 

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lUlNMH IN 1 Ni;L1sH .\N[KKIi a 



172 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

year Parliament created a Board of Commissioners, with the 
Earl of Warwick at its head, for the superin- 
of War- tendence of colonial affairs ; and nothing could 
Ms Boafd better illustrate the loose and reckless manner in 
of Commis- which American questions were treated in Enerland 

sioners * r . 

than the first proceedmgs of this board. It gave 
an early instance of British carelessness in matters of Ameri- 
can geography. In December, 1643, it granted to Massa- 
chusetts all the territory on the mainland of Narragansett 
bay ; and in the following March it incorporated the town- 
ships of Newport and Portsmouth, which stood on the island, 
together with Providence, which stood on the mainland, into 
an independent colony empowered to frame a government 
and make laws for itself. With this second document 
Williams returned to Providence in the autumn of 1644. 
Just how far it was intended to cancel the first one, nobody 
could tell, but it plainly afforded an occasion for a conflict 
of claims. 

The league of the four colonies is interesting as the first 
American experiment in federation. By the articles it was 
agreed that each colony should retain full independence .so 
far as concerned the management of its internal affairs, but 
that the confederate government should have entir(;i control 
over all dealings with the Indians or with foreign powers. 
Constitu- The administration of the league was put into the 
Confed-*'^^ hands of a board of eight Federal Commissioners, 
e'^acy two from each colony. The commissioners were 

required to be church-members in good standing. They 
could choose for themselves a president or chairman out of 
their own number, but such a president was to have no more 
power than the other members of the Board. If any mea- 
sure were to come up concerning which the commissioners 
could not agree, it was to be referred for consideration to 
the legislatures or general courts of the four colonies. Ex- 
penses for war were to be charged to each colony in propor- 
tion to the number of males in each between sixteen years 
of age and sixty. A meeting of the Board might be sum- 




THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 173 

moned by any two magistrates whenever the public safety 
might seem to require it ; but a regular meeting was to be 
held once every year. 

In this scheme of confederacy all power of taxation was 
expressly left to the several colonies. The scheme provided 
for a mere league, not for a federal union. The it was only 
government of the Commissioners acted only upon fjf^^fed- 
the local governments, not upon individuals. The ^^^ "">«" 
Board had thus but little executive power, and was hardly 
more than a consulting body. Another source of weakness 
in the confederacy was the overwhelming preponderance of 
Massachusetts. Of the 24,000 people in the confederation, 
15,000 belonged to Massachusetts, while the other three 
colonies had only about 3,000 each. Massachusetts accord- 
ingly had to carry the heaviest burden, both in the furnishing 
of soldiers and in the payment of war expenses, while in the 
direction of affairs she had no more authority than one of 
the small colonies. As a natural consequence, Massachu- 
setts tried to exert more authority than she was entitled to 
by the articles of confederation ; and such conduct was not 
unnaturally resented by the small colonies, as betokening an 
unfair and domineering spirit. In spite of these drawbacks, 
however, the league was of great value to New England. 
On many occasions it w-orked well as a high court of juris- 
diction, and it made the military strength of the colonies 
more available than it would otherwise have been. But for 
the interference of the British government, which brought 
it to an untimely end, the Confederacy might have been 
gradually amended so as to become" enduring. After its 
downfall it was pleasantly remembered by the people of New 
England ; in times of trouble their thoughts reverted to it ; 
and the historian must in fairness assign it some share in 
preparing men's minds for the greater work of federation 
which was achieved before the end of the following century. 

The formation of such a confederacy certainly involved 
something very like a tacit assumption of sovereignty on the 
part of the four colonies. It is worthy of note that they did 



174 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

not take the trouble to ask the permission of the home gov- 
j^j ernment in advance. They did as they pleased, and 

formation then defended their action afterward. In England 

involved a . 

tacit as- the act of confederation was regarded with jeal- 
ofTdv-^" ousy and distrust. But Edward Winslow, who was 
ereignty ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ London to defend the colonies, pithily 

said : " If wc in America should forbear to unite for offence 
and defence against a common enemy till we have leave from 
England, our throats might be all cut before the messenger 
would be half seas through." Whether such considerations 
would have had weight with Charles I. or not was now of 
little consequence. His power of making mischief soon 
came to an end, and from the liberal and sagacious policy of 
Cromwell the Confederacy had not much to fear. Never- 
theless the fall of Charles I. brought up for the first time 
that question which a century later was to acquire surpassing 
interest, — the question as to the supremacy of Parliament 
over the colonies. 

Down to this time the supreme control over colonial 
affairs had been in the hands of the king and his privy coun- 
cil, and the Parliament had not disputed it. In 1624 they 
had grumbled at James I.'s high-handed suppression of the 
Virginia Company, but they had not gone so far as to call in 
question the king's supreme authority over the colonies. In 
1628, in a petition to Charles I. relating to the Bermudas, 
they had fully admitted this royal authority. But the fall of 
Charles I. for the moment changed all this. Among 
Charles I. thc royal powers devolved upon Parliament was the 
the"que"? prerogative of superintending the affairs of the 
supr^lcy colonies. Such, at least, was the theory held in 
of Pariia- Encjland, and it is not easy to see how any other 

ment over . 

the coio- theory could logically have been held ; but the 
Americans never formally admitted it, and in prac- 
tice they continued to behave toward Parliament verj' much 
as they had behaved toward the crown, yielding just as little 
obedience as possible. When the ICarl of Warwick's com- 
missioners in 1644 seized upon a royalist vessel in Boston 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 




harbour, the legislature of Massachusetts debated the ques- 
tion whether it was compatible with the difjnity of the colony 
to permit such an act of sovereif^nty i>ii the ]>art of Parlia- 
ment. It was decided to wink at the proceetling, on account 
of the strong sympathy between Massachusetts and the Par- 
liament which was overthrowing the king. At the .same 
time the legislature .sent over to London a skilfully worded 
])rotest against any like exercise of ])ower in future. In 
165 1 Parliament ordered Massachusetts to surrender the 
charter obtained from Charles I. and take out a new one 
from Parliament, in which the relations of the colony to the 
home government should be made the subject of fresh and 
more preci.se definition. To this request the ciilony for more 
than a year vouchsafed no answer; and finally, when it be- 
came nece.ssary to do something, instead of sending back the 
charter, the legislature sent back a memorial, .setting forth 
that the peojile of Massachu, setts were quite contented with 
their form of government, and htiped that no change would 
be made in it. War between lingland and Holland, and 



176 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

the difficult political problems which beset the brief rule of 
Cromwell, prevented the question from coming to an issue, 
and Massachusetts was enabled to preserve her independent 
and somewhat haughty attitude. 

During the whole period of the Confederacy, however, 
disputes kept coming up which through endless crooked 
ramifications were apt to end in an appeal to the home gov- 
ernment, and thus raise again and again the question as to 
the extent of its imperial supremacy. For our present pur- 
pose, it is enough to mention three of these cases: i, the 
adventures of Samuel Gorton ; 2, the Presbyterian cabal ; 
3, the persecution of the Quakers ; while in passing we shall 
find a strong side-light thrown upon the whole by the sum- 
mer visit of Dr. John Clarke and his friends to Swampscott. 

The first case shows, in a curious and instructive way, how 
religious dissensions were apt to be complicated with threats 
of an Indian war on the one hand and peril from Great 
Britain on the other ; and as we come to realize the triple 
danger, we can perhaps make some allowances for the high- 
handed measures with which the Puritan governments some- 
times sought to avert it. As I have elsewhere tried to show. 
Genesis of the gcucsis of the persecuting spirit is to be found 
cutinr^^ in the conditions of primitive society, where " above 
spirit all things the prime social and political necessity is 

social cohesion within the tribal limits, for unless such social 
cohesion be maintained, the very existence of the tribe is 
likely to be extinguished in bloodshed." The persecuting 
spirit ** began to pass away after men had become organized 
into great nations, covering a vast extent of territory, and 
secured by their concentrated military strength against the 
gravest dangers of barbaric attack." ^ Now as regards these 
considerations, the Puritan communities in the New England 
wilderness were to some slight extent influenced by such 
conditions as used to prevail in primitive society ; and this 
will help us to understand the treatment of the Antinomians 
and such cases as that with which we have now to deal. 

^ Excursions of an E^'olutionist^ pp. 250, 255. 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 



'77 



Among the companions of Mrs. Hutchinson, for a short 
time after her arrival at Aquedneck, was a sincere and cour- 
ageous, but incoherent and crotchetty man named ^^^^^^ 
Samuel Gorton. In the denunciatory language of Cofto" 
that day he was called a "proud and pestilent seducer," or, 
as the modern newspaper would say, a "crank." It is well 
to make due allowances for the prejudice so conspicuous in 
the accounts given by his enemies, who felt obliged to jus- 
tify their harsh treatment of him. But we have also his 




own writings from which to form an opinion as to his char- 
acter and views. Lucidity, indeed, was not one of his strong 
points as a writer, and the drift of his argument is not 
always easy to decipher; but he seems to have had some 
points of contact with the Familists, a sect established in 
the sixteenth century in Holland. The Familists held that 
the essence of religion consists not in adherence to any 



178 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

particular creed or ritual, but in cherishing the spirit of 
divine love. The general adoption of this point of view 
was to inaugurate a third dispensation, superior to those of 
Moses and Christ, the dispensation of the Holy Ghost. 
The value of the Bible lay not so much in the literal truth 
of its texts as in their spiritual import ; and by the union of 
believers with Christ they came to share in the ineffable 
perfection of the Godhead. There is much that is modern 
and enlightened in such views, which Gorton seems to some 
extent to have shared. He certainly set little store by 
ritual observances and maintained the equal right of laymen 
with clergymen to preach the gospel. Himself a London 
clothier, and thanking God that he had not been brought up 
in "the schools of human learning," he set up as a preacher 
without ordination, and styled himself "professor of the 
mysteries of Christ." ^ Some passages in his writings would 
lead one to suppose that he cherished that doctrine of pri- 
vate inspiration which the Puritans especially abhorred. 
Yet he attacked the doctrine of the " inner light," as it was 
held by the Quakers. An atmosphere of Unitarianism per- 
vades many of his arguments, and now and then we get a 
touch of pantheism. Perhaps he had not an entirely dis- 
tinct comprehension of his own views, for distinctness in 
expression was surely what they lacked.^ But they were 

^ Though a craftsman, he was of gentle blood, no unusual thing in 
England at that time, and was addressed as " Mr.*' He seems to have 
been sufficiently learned to read the Old and New Testaments in the 
original tongues. 

^ A glimmer of light upon Gorton may be got from reading the title- 
page of one of his books: *' Ax Incorruptible Key, composed of 
the CX PsALME, wherewith you may open the Rest of the Holy Scrip- 
tures ; Turning itself only according to the Composure and Art of that 
Lock, of the Closure and Secresie of that great Mysterj' of God man- 
ifest in the Flesh, but justified only by the Spirit, which it evidently 
opcneth and revealeth, out of Fall and Resurrection, Sin and Right- 
eousness, Ascension and Descension, Height and Depth, First and 
Last, Beginning and Ending, Flesh and Spirit, Wisdome and Foolish- 
nesse. Strength and Weakness, Mortality and Immortality, Jew and 
Cientile, Light and Darknesse, Unity and Multiplication, Fruitfulness 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 179 

such as in the seventeenth century could not fail to arouse 
fierce antagonism, and if it was true that wherever there 
was a government Gorton was against it, perhaps that only 
shows that wherever there was a government it was sure to 
be against him. 

In the case of such men as Gorton, however, — and the 
type is by no means an uncommon one, — their tempera- 
ment usually has much more to do with getting them into 
trouble than their opinions. Gorton's temperament was 
such as to keep him always in an atmosphere of strife.^ 
Other heresiarchs suffered persecution in Massachusetts, 
but Gorton was in hot water everywhere. His troubles be- 
gan in 1638, in Plymouth, where one of his wife's servants, 
a Mrs. Aldredge, was tried for the dreadful crime of smiling 

and Barrenness, Curse and Blessing, Man and Woman, Kingdom and 
Priesthood, Heaven and Earth, AUsufficiency and Deficiency, God and 
Man. And out of every Unity made up of twaine, it openeth that 
great two-leafed Gate, which is the sole Entrie into the City of God, 
of New Jerusalem, into which none but the King of glory can enter; 
and as that Porter openeth the Doore of the Sheepfold, by which who- 
soever entreth is the Shepheard of the Sheep ; See Isa. 45. i. Psal. 24. 
7, 8, 9, 10. John 10. I, 2, 3; Or, (according to the Signification of the 
Word translated Psalme,) it is a Pruning-Knife, to lop off from the 
Church of Christ all superfluous Twigs of earthly and carnal Com- 
mandments^ Leviticall Services or Ministery, and fading and vanishing 
Priests, or Ministers, who are taken away and cease, and are not estab- 
lished and confirmed by Death, as holding no Correspondency with the 
princely Dignity, Office, and Ministry of our Melchisedek, who is the 
only Minister and Ministr\' of the Sanctuary, and of that true Taber- 
nacle which the Lord pitcht, and not Man. For it supplants the Old 
Man, and implants the New; abrogates the Old Testament or Cove- 
nant, and confirms the New, unto a thousand Generations, or in Gen- 
erations forever. 15y Samuel Gorton, Gent.^ and at the time of penning 
hereof, in the Place of Judicature (upon Aquethneck, alias Road Island) 
of Providence Plantations in the Nanhyganset Bay, New England. 
Printed in the Yeere 1647." 

^ At Plymouth *'his conduct was most abusive and his language 
insulting to the Court.'* At Portsmouth he " contumeliously reproached 
the magistrates, calling them just asses [justices]," accused them of 
bribery and shook his fist at them in open court, etc. Arnold, History 
of Rhode Island, i. 166, 171. 



i8o THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

in the meeting-house during service. Gorton had studied 
law enough to know its principles and methods. He denied 
the competency of the Plymouth magistrates to try persons 
for breaking laws of their own devising, and quite properly 
urged that the act of the defendant, though it might offend 
their theocratic notions, was not punishable by the .common 
law of ICngland. For this audacious protest Gorton was 
ordered to leave the colony within a fortnight. 

Thereupon he fled to Aquedneck, where his first achieve- 
He flees to ™^"^ ^^^'** ^ schism among Mrs. Hutchinson's fol- 
Aqucdneck lowcrs, which ended in some staying to found the 
banished town of Portsmouth while others went away to 
t ence found Newport. Presently Portsmouth found him 
intolerable and banished him, and after his departure was 
able to make up its quarrel with Newport. He next made 
his way with a few followers to Pawtuxet, within the juris- 
diction of Providence, and now it is the broad-minded and 
gentle Roger Williams who complains of his ** bewitching 
and madding poor Providence.*' The question is here sug- 
gested, What could it have been in Gorton's teaching that 
enabled him thus to " bewitch " these little communities ? 
We may be sure that it could not have been the element 
of modem liberalism suggested in the F*amilistic doctrines 
above cited. That was the feature then least likely to 
appeal to the minds of common people, and most likely 
to appeal to Williams. More probably such success as 
Gorton had in winning followers was due to .some of the 
mystical rubbish which abounds in his pages and finds in a 
modern mind no doorway through which to enter. 

Another point, however, quite unconnected with abstruse 
questions of theology, was involved. In mo.st of the serious 
disputes in which Gorton was concerned, he maintained that 
colonial society in America must rest upon the un.shakable 
foundations of the English common law and not upon flimsy 
theories of what society ought to be like. He also insisted 
that the surest guarantee of American liberties was to be 
furnished by charters explicitly sanctioned by the home 
government. In these conservative views Gorton showed 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY i8i 

rare political sagacity. Upon these views both Connecticut 
and the Narragansett settlements — though Roger Williams 
did not at first feel the need of it — came ultimately to act. 
Of their great importance, in the development of American 
liberty along constitutional Hues, there can be no doubt.^ 

Though Williams more or less disapproved of Gorton, he 
was true to his own principles of toleration and would not 
take part in any attempt to silence him. But in 1641 we 
find thirteen leading citizens of Providence, headed by Wil- 
liam Arnold,^ sending a memorial to Boston, asking for 
assistance and counsel in regard to this disturber of the 
peace. How was Massachusetts to treat such an appeal i 
She could not presume to meddle with the affair ,, .^ 

' ... Providence 

unless she could have permanent jurisdiction over protests 
Pawtuxet ; otherwise she was a mere intruder. ^^*"* 
How strong a side-light does this little incident throw upon 
the history of the Roman republic, and of all relatively 
strong communities when confronted with the problem of 
preserving order in neighbouring states that are too weak 
to preserve it for themselves ! Arnold's argument, in his 
appeal to Massachusetts, was precisely the same as that by 

which the latter colony excused 
jm^ ^^ y^ herself for banishing the Antino- 

^i 0«He2 -"XfOtif'^g^^ mians. He simply says that Gor- 

&/ ton and his company '* are not fit 

persons to be received, and made 
members of a body in so weak a state as our town is in at 
present ;" and he adds, "There is no state but in the first 
place will seek to preserve its own safety and peace." What- 
ever might be the abstract merits of Gorton's opinions, his 
conduct was held to be politically dangerous; and accord- 

^ This point has been well brought out by Dr. Lewis Janes, in his 
Samuell Gorton : a Forj^often Founder of our Liberties^ Providence, 
1896, a book which contains many valuable suggestions. 

■^ Father of Benedict Arnold, afterward governor of Rhode Island, 
and owner of the stone windmill (apparently copied from one in Ches- 
terton, Warwickshire) which was formerly supposed by some antiqua- 
rians to be a vestige of the Northmen. Governor Benedict Arnold 
was great-grandfather of the traitor. 



i82 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

ingly the jurisdiction over Pawtuxj^t was formally conceded 
to Massachusetts. Thereupon that colony, assuming juris- 
diction, summoned Gorton and his men to Boston, to prove 
their title to the lands they occupied. They of course re- 
garded the summons as a flagrant usurpation of authority, 

and instead of obeying it they withdrew to Sha- 
sjLwmnet^ womet, on the western shore of Narragansett bay, 
Wy^ialid where they bought a tract of land from the princi- 
f^^ pal sachem of the Narragansetts, Miantonomo. 

The immediate rule over this land belonged to two 
inferior chiefs, who ratified the sale at the time, but six 
months afterward disavowed the ratification, on the ground 
that it had been given under duress from their overlord 
Miantonomo. Here was a state of things which might 
easily bring on an Indian war. The two chiefs appealed to 
Massachusetts for protection, and were accordingly sum- 
moned, along with Miantonomo, to a hearing at Boston. 
Here we see how a kind of English protectorate over the 
native tribes had begun to grow up so soon after the destruc- 
tion of the Pe- jT' 
quots. Such ^^ %yy 
aresult was in- 
evitable. Af- ^/Z^^y,,^^^ 

terhearingthe 
arguments, 

the legislature decided to defend the two inferior chiefs, pro- 
vided they would put themselves under the jurisdiction of 
Massachusetts. This was done, while further complaints 
against Gorton came from the citizens of Providence. Gor- 
ton and his men were now peremptorily summoned to Boston 
to show cause why they should not surrender their land at 
Shawomet and to answer the charges against them. On 
receiving from Gorton a defiant reply, couched in terms 
which some thought blasphemous,^ the government of Mas- 
sachusetts prepared to use force. 

^ The ingenious 13oston ministers discovered at least six-and-twenty 
instances of Hat " blasphemy '' in j>oor Gorton's letter ! 





THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 183 

Meanwhile the unfortunate Miantonomo had rushed upon 
his doom. The annihilation of the Pequots had left the 
Mohegans and Narragansetts contending for the foremost 
place among the native tribes. Between the rival sachems, 
Uncas and Miantonomo, the hatred was deep and deadly. 
As soon as the Mohegan perceived that trouble was brewing 
between Miantonomo and the government at Boston, he im- 
proved the occasion by gathering a few Narragansett scalps. 
Miantonomo now took the war-path and was totally defeated 
by Uncas in a battle on the Great Plain in the present town- 
ship of Norwich. Encumbered with a coat of mail which 
his friend Gorton had given him, Miantonomo was overtaken 
and captured. By ordinary Indian usage he would 
have been put to death with fiendish torments, as mo and 
soon as due preparations could be made and a fit 
company assembled to gloat over his agony ; but Gorton 
sent a messenger to Uncas, threatening dire vengeance if 
harm were done to his ally. This message puzzled the Mo- 
hegan chief. The appearance of a schism in the English 
counsels was more than he could quite fathom. When the 
affair had somewhat more fully developed itself, some of the 
Indians spoke of the white men as divided into two rival 
tribes, the Gortonoges and Wattaconoges.^ Roger Williams 
tells us that the latter term, applied to the men of Boston, 
meant coat-wearers. Whether it is to be inferred that the 
Gortonoges went about in what modern parlance would be 
called their "shirt-sleeves," the reader must decide.'^ 

In his perplexity Uncas took his prisoner to Hartford, and 
afterward, upon the advice of the governor and council, sent 
him to Boston, that his fate might be determined by the 
Federal Commissioners, who were there holding their first 
regular meeting. It was now the turn of the commissioners 
to be perplexed. According to English law there was no 

^ (Jorton, Simplicities s Defence (ij^^aifis/ Seven-headed Policy y p. %^» 
^ I see that my bit of pleasantry here has proved unsuccessful ; for 
my good friend Dr. Janes seems to understand me as raising the ques- 
tion in sober earnest! See his Satnuell Gorton, p. 57, note. 



i84 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

good reason for putting Miantonomo to death. The question 
was whether they should interfere with the Indian custom 
by which his life was already forfeit to his captor. - The 
magistrates already suspected the Narragansetts of cherish- 
ing hostile designs. To set their sachem at liberty, espe- 
cially while the Gorton affair remained unsettled, might be 
dangerous ; and it would be likely to alienate Uncas from the 
English. In their embarrassment the commissioners sought 
spiritual guidance. A synod of forty or fifty clergymen, 
from all parts of New England, was in session at Boston, 
and the question was referred to a committee of five of their 



Q 



TfCa^ 





oy ho&^^'tir~' 



^/fUti^ — • 



^x 



C^c^ 




A W/ f^u^ 



M»^./7H^l/1r)0 — 



/ 

number. The decision was prompt that Miantonomo must 
die. He was sent back to Hartford to be slain by Uncas, 
but two messengers accompanied him, to see that no tor- 
tures were inflicted ; a privilege which the victim would 
perhaps have regarded with contempt. A select band of 
Mohegan warriors journeyed through the forest with the 
prisoner and the two Englishmen, until they came to the 
plain where the battle had been fought. Then at a signal 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 185 

from Uncas, the warrior walking behind Miantonomo silently 
lifted his tomahawk and sank it into the brain of ^ ^ ^ 

Death of 

the victim, who fell dead without a groan. Un- Mianto- 
cas cut a warm slice from the shoulder and greed- 
ily devoured it, declaring that the flesh of his enemy was 
the sweetest of meat and gave strength to his heart. Mi- 
antonomo was buried there on the scene of his defeat, 
which has ever since been known as the Sachem's Plain. 
This was in September, 1643, and for years afterward, in 
that pleasant harvest time, parties of Narragansetts used to 
visit the spot and with frantic gestures and hideous yells 
lament their fallen leader. A heap of stones was raised over 
the grave, and no Narragansett came near it without adding 
to the pile. After many a summer had passed and the red 
men had disappeared from the land, a Yankee farmer, with 
whom thrift prevailed over sentiment, cleared away the 
mound, and used the stones for the foundation of his new 
barn.^ 

One cannot regard this affair as altogether creditable to 
the Federal Commissioners and their clerical advisers. One 
of the clearest-headed and most impartial students of our 
history observes that **if the English were to meddle in the 
matter at all, it was their clear duty to enforce as far as 
might be the principles recognized by civilized men. When 
they accepted the appeal made by Uncas they shifted the 
responsibility from the Mohegan chief to themselves." ^ The 
decision was doubtless based purely upon grounds of policy. 
Miantonomo was put out of the way because he was believed 
to be dangerous. In the thirst for revenge that was aroused 
among the Narragansetts there was an alternative source of 
danger, to which I shall hereafter refer.^ It is difficult now 
to decide, as a mere question of safe policy, what the English 
ought to have done. The chance of being dragged into an 
Indian war, through the feud between Narragansetts and 

^ I)e Poorest, History of the Indians of Connecticut s Hartford, 1850, 
p. 19K. 

- Doyle, Puritan Colonies, i. 324. « See below, p. 249, note. 



i86 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Mohegans, was always imminent. The policy which con- 
demned Miantonomo was one of timidity, and fear is merci- 
less. 

The Federal Commissioners heartily approved the conduct 
of Massachusetts toward Gorton, and adopted it in the name 
of the United Colonies. After a formal warning, which 
passed unheeded, a company of forty men, under Edward 
„ ^. . Johnson, of Woburn, and two other officers, was 

r.xpeaition 

arainst sent to Shawomct. Some worthy citizens of Provi- 
dence essayed to play the part of mediators, and 
after some parley the Gortonites offered to submit to arbi- 
tration. The proposal was conveyed to Boston, and the 
clergy were again consulted. They declared it beneath the 
dignity of Massachusetts to negotiate " with a few fugitives 
living without law or government," and they would no more 
compound with Gorton's " blasphemous revilings" than they 
would bargain witli the Evil One. The community must be 
"purged" of such wickedness, either by repentance or by 
punishment. The ministers felt that God would hold the 
community responsible for Gorton and visit calamities upon 
them unless he were silenced.^ The arbitration was refused, 
Gorton's blockhouse was besieged and captured, and the 
agitator was carried with nine of his followers to Boston, 
Trial nd ^^crc they were speedily convicted of heresy and 
sentence of sedition. Before passing judgment the General 
Court as usual consulted with the clergy, who 
recommended a sentence of death. Their advice was adopted 
by the assistants, but the deputies were more merciful, and 
the heretics were sentenced to imprisonment at the pleasure 
of the court. In this difference between the assistants and 
the deputies, we observe an early symptom of that popular 
revolt against the ascendancy of the clergy which was by 
and by to become so much more conspicuous and effective 
in the affair of the Quakers. Another symptom might 
be seen in the circumstance that so much sympathy was 

^ See my Excursions of an Evolutionist, pp. 239-242, 250-255, 286- 
289. 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 187 

expressed for the Gortonites, especially by women, that after 
some months of imprisonment and abuse the heretics were 
banished under penalty of death. 

Gorton now went to England and laid his tale of woe 
before the parliamentary Board of Commissioners. ^ 

* "^ . Gorton ap- 

The Earl of Warwick behaved with moderation, geaisto 
He declined to commit himself to an opinion as to 
the merits of the quarrel, but Gorton's title to Shawomet 
was confirmed. He returned to Boston with an order to 
the government to allow him to pass unmolested through 
Massachusetts, and hereafter to protect him in the posses- 
sion of Shawomet. If this little commonwealth of I5,cxx> 
inhabitants had been a nation as powerful as France, she 
could not have treated the message more haughtily. By a 
majority of one vote it was decided not to refuse so trifling 
a favour as a passage through the country for just this once; 
but as for protecting the new town of Warwick which the 
Gortonites proceeded to found at Shawomet, although it was 
several times threatened by the Indians, and the settlers 
appealed to the parliamentary order, that order Massachu- 
setts flatly and doggedly refused to obey.* 

In the discussions of which these years were so full, 
"King Winthrop," as his enemy Morton called win- 
him, used some very significant language. By a !|Jophetic 
curious legal fiction of the Massachusetts charter opinion 
the colonists were supposed to hold their land as in the 
manor of I^ast Greenwich near London, and it was argued 
that they were represented in Parliament by the members 
of the county or borough which contained that manor, and 
were accordingly subject to the jurisdiction of Parliament. 
It was further argued that since the king had no absolute 

* Gorton's life at Warwick, after all these troubles, seems to have 
been prosperous. He was several times chosen a member of the coun- 
cil of assistants of Rhode Island, and held other honourable positions. 
He died in 1677 at a ;(reat age. In 1771 Dr. Ezra Stiles visited, in 
Providence, his last surviving disciple, born in 1691. This old man 
said that Gorton wrote in heaven, and none can understand his books 
except those who live in heaven while on earth. 



i88 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

sovereignty independent of Parliament, he could not by 
charter impart any such independent sovereignty to others. 
Winthrop did not dispute these points, but observed that 
the safety of the commonwealth was the supreme law, and 
if in the interests of that safety it should be found neces- 
sary to renounce the authority of Parliament, the colonists 
would be justified in doing so.^ This was essentially the 
same doctrine as was set forth ninety-nine years later by 
young Samuel Adams in his Commencement Oration at 
Harvard. 

The case of the Presbyterian cabal admits of briefer treat- 
ment than that of Gorton. There had now come to be many 
persons in Massachusetts who disapproved of the provision 
which restricted the suffrage to members of the Independent 
or Congregational churches of New England, and in 1646 
the views of these people were presented in a petition to 
the General Court. The petitioners asked **that their civil 
disabilities might be removed, and that all members of the 
churches of England and Scotland might be admitted to 
communion with the New England churches. If this could 
not be granted they prayed to be released from all civil bur- 
dens. Should the court refuse to entertain their complaint, 
they would be obliged to bring their case before Parliament." * 

The leading signers of this menacing petition were 
byterian William Vassall, Samuel Maverick, and Dr. Robert 

Child. Maverick we have already met. From the 
day when the ships of the first Puritan settlers had sailed 
past his log fortress on Noddle's Island, he had been their 
enemv; "a man of loving and curteous behaviour,*' says 
Johnson, "very ready to entertaine strangers, yet an enemy 
to the reformation in hand, being strong for the lordly pre- 
latical power." Vassall was not a denizen of Massachusetts, 
but lived in Scituate, in the colony of Plymouth, where there 
were no such restrictions upon the suffrage. Child was a 
learned physician who after a good deal of roaming about 

' Doyle, Puritan Colonits. i. 369. 
'' Id.J. 372. 



StMVUClTlES T>EFm{j:E 

Jgjinft 

SEVEN-HEADED POLICY. 

on 

Innocency Vindicated, being unjuftly Accu/ed' 

andforcly CcHfured, by that' 

Seven - headed Qhurch - Governmer.e 

UnJKii in 

NEW-ENGLAND: 

OR 

That Servant ib Imperious in his MalTiers Abfencc 
Revived, and now thus rc-a.aine in Ne vv- E NG L « N i>. 

OR 

Thecombitcof the United Colonies not oncty againft 
fomrofthtr Natives and Sultjcfts, buc agijiift the Auchoriiy alio 

ofUic KiiigJiDF t/. F.»tliud.v\Ai iliclr CKCciiiion of Li»i, in ihc aimc and 

AuthMlt/oIihclc-vint.CciraClticmrclv^) and noi in die Nmie^inrl 

Aotboriiy of ilie Loid.pt lountainofiiie Sovcrnntcm, 

Wherein is declared an kCt of agreat people and Country 

ofthcWunrf in tholeparis.boihPrincfsaiid People CunanimounyJ 
intheitvolLinwrj^SubiiiilTioiiand SubjeA inn unto theProteflion 

and OoTcrnmcni of Old tiif;l»n.' 7ioin ilit Fame ibty hcit ihfteof ) logc 

ihei wi>)i (he nuc ininn<( ani 'j ..Aeof it, ai iiappeait unJetilicit oktii 

tian4ianil fcalt, being n ,-ird up, and pcovohcil tlicieto, tjr 

[he Cmnbate jnd ciurfci abovc-faiil. 

Throughout which TreatiS; is fccretly intet mingled, that 

great Oppofition,whichis in the goings f'orih of [hoferwaRnnd 

Spiti(5i thit arc, aiii ever have been, extant in the WntU 

(tliiougli th« fan< oFintnJ from itie beginning and 

raiinJaii^in rluieor, 

JmfrimMitr, t^Hf. i*. i6^6. Diligently peiuftd, approvtd, and 

Lil{nfrJto<hcP.rcirf.attafdmetoOrd.-,bvP"blilit ^.iihn iiv. 
LONOOlf, 

Primed by j'atB ^Jiof-t. and are CO be fold by laiKB Favvhb, 

ai hit Ihop in emll CbufihjdiJ, u the fign W" ilie I'*T.f. 1 a 4 <. 



J NEW-ENGLjiNDS ^^ 

Si' 

5t 

■J 

-I 

if 

i^ARel ATioNoftheF, 

, ^ thcCourt at Bojion in New-Eneland againll di- ^ 

I i venhondtandgodly p«fotH,for l^tiiioQiogforGo- 
I p vennncntinthcCommon-ncalth^cconlingtothettlveicA 

S£nj/4»ii!,andfof3(lmi[tinccofthcmrd*Eiand(lul(lieitl 
B^ to the Sacraments in their Church»; and incile "^ 

i ttutfViaiildnot be {trantcd , for leave to 

; hive Miniflers and Ch urch- govern- 

I . ment according to the beft 

' Reformation of ^x- 

\ Together with a Confutation ofibmcR^ 

'j of i faincd Miracle upon the forerj'iJ Petition, 

% thronn ovi'T'board it ^ea; A^alfoa brcif AnfiverEoi 

ji pafi'agcs in a late Duok(cnti[iili:d Hjpecrife KntnAiktd), 

^ lei tut by Ml. ri-flfri, lontciiiirg ihc Inde- 

'< iciiJcnTCUuuIicil:<'[dii4>[r^niunUii 

■■' wiihiliclUfoiireilChuKhci, 




Caftupat 

LONDON; 

OR, 



By Major J«hi, ChiU. 



, .?: iDiJfl,-, J'lintcdfoc T.n. and £.Af. 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 191 

the world had lately taken it into his head to come and see 
what sort of a place Massachusetts was. Although these 
names were therefore not such as to lend weight to such a 
petition, their request would seem at first §ight reasonable 
enough. At a superficial glance it seems conceived in a 
modern spirit of liberalism. In reality it was nothing of the 
sort. In England it was just the critical moment of the 
struggle between Presbyterians and Independents which had 
come in to complicate the issues of the great civil war. 
Vassall, Child, and Maverick seem to have been the leading 
spirits in a cabal for the establishment of Presbyterianism in 
New England, and in their petition they simply took advan- 
tage of the discontent of the disfranchised citizens in Mas- 
sachusetts in order to put in an entering wedge. This was 
thoroughly understood by the legislature of Massachusetts, 
and accordingly the petition was dismissed and the petition- 
ers were roundly fined. Just as Child was about to start 
for P3ngland with his grievances, the magistrates overhauled 
his papers and discovered a petition to the parliamentary 
Board of Commissioners, suggesting that Presbyterianism 
should be established in New England, and that a viceroy 
or governor-general should be appointed to rule there. To 
the men of Massachusetts this last suggestion was a crown- 
ing horror. It seemed scarcely less than treason. The 
signers of this petition were the same who had signed the 
petition to the General Court. They were now fined still 
more heavily and imprisoned for six months. By and by 
they found their way, one after another, to London, while 
the colonists sent Edward Winslow, of Plymouth, as an ad- 
vocate to thwart their schemes. Winslow was assailed by 
Child's brother in a spicy pamphlet entitled " New England's 
Jonas cast up at London," and replied after the same sort, 
entitling his pamphlet " New England's Salamander discov- 
ered." The cabal accomplished nothing because of the 
decisive defeat of Presbyterianism in PIngland. " Pride's 
Purge " settled all that. 

The petition of Vassall and his friends was the occasion 



J 



192 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

for the meeting of a synod of churches at Cambridge, in 
order to complete the organization of Congregationalism. 
In 1648 the work of the synod was embodied in the famous 

Cambridge Platform, which adopted the Westmin- 
Cambridgc ster Confession as its creed, carefully defined the 

powers of the clergy, and declared it to be the 
duty of magistrates to suppress heresy. In 1649 the Gen- 
eral Court laid this platform before the congregations ; in 
165 1 it was adopted; and this event may be regarded as 
completing the theocratic organization of the Puritan com- 
monwealth in Massachusetts. It was immediately followed 
by a case of persecution pure and simple. The story of 
the visit of three Baptist gentlemen to Swampscott, in the 
summer *of 165 1, leads us into no such complications of 
motive as the stories of Anne Hutchinson, of Samuel Gor- 
ton, and of Robert Child. The persecution of Dr. John 
Clarke illustrates nothing but the noxious effect upon nar- 
row minds and hardened hearts of the theocratic endeavour 
to make Massachusetts a strictly orthodox community. 

John Clarke, one of the worthiest and most high-minded 
among the founders of New England, was born in Suffolk 
in 1609. It is not known where he obtained his excellent 
education ; but he was esteemed a learned physician and 
good classical scholar, while it is clear that he could read 
his Old Testament familiarly in Hebrew, for he was the 
Dr. John author of a manuscript concordance and lexicon to 
Clarke ^.^^ same. He seems to have become a Baptist 
before his arrival in Boston, in 1637, i^ the heat of the 
Antinomian controversy. Not liking the peculiar fragrance 
of the ecclesiastical atmosphere into which he had come, 
he went to Aquedneck and took part with William Codding- 
ton and Anne Hutchinson in establishing the colony of Rhode 
Island. In 1639 a Baptist church was founded at Newport, 
and Dr. Clarke was for many years its teacher. His ser- 
vices to the commonwealth were so great that history must 
place him by the side of Roger Williams. What Williams 
was for the mainland colony, that was Clarke for the colony 




TLATFORM OF 
CHURCH DISCIPLINE 

gATHESED OVT OF THE fvOJlD OF COD: 
t^T^D AGhiEETi VPON BT THE eLDERS-. 
AND MESSENGERS OF THE CHUR.CHES 

MitMBUi^U I.N THb SV.IUD AT LAHBKlD^li X: 



i 



To he prelcmej to the Chutth« md ncncrjil Court T*f 

foe tbtir (onlldCTjt.on anJ McciiUiicc, S^'S 

in [be Lord* ^^i. 

The Eigbc Moocth Aiino i ^ 1 9 {h 



f pLcf rrlj:r* lb w h-ir ^illiil, . < 

L pa : 27.4. CW W^ijw/dt/i--.^.; ifc /,.../(44fi»4/jRt < 

■ .i » I ./■ «» /.(S'. tfbM.lH £iMij t) lit Lt/J&a ' 

I inj>u;( W ill T:mp!., I 



*t Printo! hf S q .« f^nmi-iJ-f in ^n* f-^/W ^ 

U^f -*; antl^ic tube folJ il Crimfc..'/ miJ 'ZI..Jm ^ 



Ipa^^^i^aH^iAgHB^BaMitari^Ka^k^i^MriiaisaduaM^aA^ba 



THE J' — ^-- 

MERITORIOUS ^:^"~^' 



■•■ - -«- V. rf. ^, 

O F 



/-.-•.*- 
O '• 



Our Redemption , luftification ^ 
Cleermg it from fame common Errors - 

And proving , j 

ri. That Chriftdid not fuftcr for i:s thofc unutterable torments of j 
^ Codswrathy chat commonly arc called Hcll-cormcnts , to il- • 
ftrt I. X deem our foulcs from them. I 

}i. That Cbrift did not bear our (ins by Gods imputation , and \ 
L. therefore he did not bear the curfe of the LiwTor them. | 

J. That Chriil bath redeemed us from the curfe of the Lavi- (not 1 
by fuffering the faid curfe for us, but/ by a fatisfaAory price of 
attonemenc; t^i*.by paying or performing unto his Father thjt 
Pat: 11.^ invaluable precious thing of his Mediatorial! obediencr,whcrof 
£ his Mediatorial! Sacrifice of attonement was the maflcr-piece. 
'C4. A iinners righteoufnefle or judifkation is explained , and clea- 
red from fome common Errors. 






By Wittiam Pimbin^ Gentleman, in New- England. 



1' Tlic McJiiror faiih thus to i.u F.ithcr in Pfil 40.8,10. 

^^'t tc d) r> > »•/// ^ ^) Ge.^,)Cd iby Luvf U withia my hart : {xi^.) I J^ii^h: to ao 
:hv w:!!, «.r Law. .is i Mi.di.uor. 
/ hi^c •♦' ; liJ if\Y Tt^'^t' t'Uj'icjJc tcnhiyt mj bedrt, T hive iccUrci thj fjiihfkliii'f,e , s-id 
r''> !.\:ti. .. Na:n»';v,I hivt noi l:iJ thy riiilucourncflc, or tliy wa* of in.iliin^ lini;c:» 
1. '.• ..-, i.-u' !iivCiiw».l.i:cJ it l»y .lie pcitormancc of my Ma^intoiial; >ac.:!.».v: •>!' ^t- 
r. 11:. ", ;'»«. ri''».'irifv^ ciul'c of ihy .iiioncmcm, toihc grcar Cr^ii^vCj^auo.:'. .r iliti: 



/. n .V U O S , 
t ■*'. • •: '.r,r/L li ' ••:" ;'• ^, -fui ^i.^-i- •/•,x;'i, an.i arc :( l)C loi.! a: 



■ k 



w 1 1 I I ■> '•; I \ N« 111 'S ■ n I r I I I- M 1.1 ■■.'!.. u III' n u \- 1 i i' m !■ 1 \ 111 1 m \i; ki 1 
I I •.■ I 1 ■. I ■ '- I ■ .. i ^ < ■; I -i I-. ' I I II 1 <.i M ), \i. • > i 1: i 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 195 

upon the island, its leading spirit in all that was noblest and 
best. Upright and capable in all the relations of life, he. 
never failed of the courtesy and dignity that mark the 
perfect gentleman. 

In 1644 the General Court of Massachusetts passed an 
act banishing from the colony all persons who should either 
openly or privately oppose the baptism of infants. Ban- 
ishment, however, did not always occur. Thomas Painter, 
of Hingham, for refusing to have his child bap- 
tized, was savagely whipped. William Witter was against 

, r ..... , Baptists 

twice arraigned for expressing his opinion on such 
subjects, but he was not banished, and in the summer of 
165 1 we find him living quietly at Swampscott. Being 
nearly seventy years of age, blind and otherwise infirm, so 
that he could not make the journey to Newport in quest 
of spiritual consolation, he "requested an intervysw with 
some of the brethren " ; in other words, he asked that some 
of the brethren might come and visit him. 

In response to this appeal Dr. Clarke, with two compan- 
ions, undertook the journey to Swampscott. One of these 
friends was John Crandall, a deputy or representative from 
Newport in the General Court of Rhode Island. The other 
was Rev. Obadiah Holmes, born of a respectable family at 
Preston in Lancashire and educated at Oxford. He had 
lately been pastor of a church at Seekonk, in the Plymouth 
colony, where there had been " thirteene or fower- obadiaii 
teen persons rebaptized " ; an incident which called ^^"^'"es 
forth an energetic protest from Massachusetts. The Bos- 
ton magistrates declared themselves in danger "from the 
infection of such diseases, being so near," and they expressed 
a hope that the danger might be averted. They looked 
upon Baptists as moral lepers, unfit to associate with their 
fellow men. Similar views were entertained in Plymouth, 
for Holmes was presented by the grand jury of that colony 
for "holding a disorderly meeting" [i. e., a meeting of dis- 
believers in infant baptism] on the Lord's day. But the 
mild rebuke which Plymouth deemed sufficient for the 



196 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

emergency was far from satisfactory to the sterner temper 
of Massachusetts. Under these circumstances it required 
courage for Holmes to show himself in the neighbourhood 




^/C ^r/. 



of Boston. It was a brave Christian act and fraught with 

some peril. 

On Saturday evening, July rg, 1651, the three Baptist 
worthies arrived in Swampscott and passed the night at the 
house of the venerable Witter. On Sunday morning, " not 
having freedom in our Spirits for want of a clear Call from 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 197 

God to goe unto the Publick Assembly '* — which was at 
Lynn, two or three miles away — Dr. Clarke and his friends 
held a service at Witter 's house. Four or five men from 
the neighbourhood came in and listened, perhaps from mere 
curiosity ; but presently two constables entered with a war- 
rant for the arrest of the visitors from Rhode . , , 

Arrest of 

Island. Dr. Clarke, with his wonted urbanity, in- the Bap- 

tists at 

vited the officers to stay and hear the service com- Swamp- 
pleted, but they grimly retorted by haling him 
and his friends off to the village ale-house for safe keeping. 
In the afternoon, said the constables, they should be made 
to go to the meeting-house at Lynn. Nay, quoth the doc- 
tor : " If thou forcest us into your assembly, then shall we 
be constrained to declare ourselves that we cannot enter 
into communion with them." He was as good as his word. 
To characterize his conduct in church as rudeness would 
be to show oneself wanting in the historical spirit which 
understands a vanished age. Just as it was a matter of 
conscience with the magistrate to drag these Baptists into 
the meeting-house, it was a matter of conscience with the 
Baptists to make some public sign of disapproval. Their 
demeanour was quiet, for they were gentlemen and not 
brawlers. On entering the church they raised their hats, 
bowed politely to minister and congregation, then sat down 
and put on their hats. Dr. Clarke took a book from his 
pocket and "fell to reading," while the three offending hats 
were removed by the constables. When service was over 
Clarke asked and obtained permission to speak to the con- 
gregation, but after a few words he was silenced and taken, 
with his friends, to the tavern. 

Next morning the three were committed to the jail in 
Boston and kept there till July 31, when they were brought 
before the General Court for trial. The spirit of the pro- 
ceedings was like that which was shown in the trial of 
Bunyan's Faithful at Vanity Fair. Governor Endicott ac- 
cused the prisoners of being Anabaptists, which gave Dr. 
Clarke a chance for a little Greek pleasantry; he assured 



198 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

the governor that he was "neither an Anabaptist, nor a 
Paedobaptist, nor a Catabaptist." ^ He admitted that he 
had baptized grown-up persons who had been in their baby- 
Triaiofthe hood taken to church and had water sprinkled on 
Baptists their foreheads ; but since such early wetting was 
in no true sense baptism, he could not be accused of re- 
baptizing. But this ingenious logic did not avail him or 
his friends. They were sentenced with varying degrees of 
severity, each to pay a fine or in default of payment to be 
"well whipt." Crandall was the least important of the 
three victims, and his fine was only jCS- Clarke's fine was 
;£20 and that of Holmes was ;;^30.^ 

When sentence had been pronounced Dr. Clarke asked if 
he might be allowed to see the law by which he had been 
judged. Then Endicott, in a towering passion, " broke forth 
and told me I had deserved death, and said he would not 
have such trash brought into their jurisdiction : moreover, 
he said, you go up and down, and secretly insinuate into 
those that are weak ; but you cannot maintain it before our 
Ministers : you may try and discourse or dispute with them." 
Clarke was eager to accept this challenge, but was imme- 
diately hurried away to jail. Holmes, on hearing his sen- 
tence, exclaimed, " I bless God I am counted worthy to 
suffer for the name of Jesus " ; whereupon the Rev. John 
Wilson, quite overcome with rage, struck him and shouted, 
" The curse of Jesus go with thee ! " 

1 In other words, neither a rebaptizer, nor a baptizer of babes, nor a 
reviler of baptism. The epithet " Catabaptist " was sometimes applied 
to Baptists in opprobrium, but '* Anabaptist *' was preferred, because 
Anabaptists were apt to be " unsound " on the doctrine of the Trinity, 
so that the use of the name made it easy to abuse Baptists /^r opitiions 
which they did not hold. This kind of misrepresentation is always in- 
expressibly dear to the theological hater. The jingle of Dr. Clarke's 
statement reminds one of Carlyle's gruff reply to some inquisitive crea- 
ture who wished to know if he was a pantheist : '* No, I am neither a 
pan-theist nor a pot-theist ! '' 

2 In our modern gold money these fines were equivalent to $125, 
$500, and ;?75o. 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 199 

From prison Dr. Clarke sent forth a letter next day, 
challenging the ministers to a public discussion of the ques- 
tion as to baptism, and asking that a time and place be 
appointed The General Court shuffled and quibbled in the 
matter. A rumour got abroad that the discussion was to 
beheld at Cambridge on Commencement Day, August 12, 
and that John Cotton was to be Clarke's antagonist. But 
on August 1 1 Clarke was released from jail, inasmuch as 
some friends wdthout his consent had paid his fine. He 
renewed his challenge, but the magistrates refused to allow 
any public discussion, and so the baffled and insulted doctor 
returned to breathe the free air of Newport. 

Crandall's fine was also paid by friends, but Holmes posi- 
tively refused to accept any such deliverance, and he used 
arguments which prevailed with his friends. He urged that 
payment of the fine would look like a confession 
that he was in the wrong ; a great principle was treatment 
at stake, and he preferred to take the consequences 
of refusal. The magistrates also seem to have been unwill- 
ing to accept payment in this case. They wished to make 
an example of Holmes, who had been let off so lightly by 
Plymouth. The punishment meted out to him was thirty 
lashes, the same as the penalty for rape, adultery, and coun- 
terfeiting. On a September day this good man was stripped 
and tied to the post. What followed may be told in his own 
words : — 

" In truth, as the stroaks fell upon me, I had such a spir- 
itual! manifestation of God's presence as the like thereto I 
never had, nor felt, nor can with fleshly tongue expresse ; 
and the outward pain was so removed from me, that in- 
deed I am not able to declare it to you ; it was so easy to me 
that I could well bear it, yea, and in a manner felt it not, 
although it was grievous ; as the Spectators said, the Man 
striking with all his strength (yea, spitting on his hands 
three times, as many affirmed) with a three-coarded whip, 
giving me therewith thirty stroaks. When he had loosed 
me from the Post, having joyfulnesse in my heart and cheer- 



200 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

fulness in my countenance, as the Spectators observed, I 
told the Magistrates — You have struck me as with Roses ; 
and said, moreover. Although the Lord hath made it easy to 
me, yet I pray it may not be laid to your charge." 

It was a brutal affair. We are told that for some weeks 
afterward " Mr. Holmes could take no rest but as he lay 
upon his knees and elbows, not being able to suffer any part 
of his body to touch the bed whereon he lay." Several by- 
standers, for speaking compassionately to the bleeding victim 
as he came away from the whipping-post, were arrested, and 
two were fined. 

This outrage drew forth from Roger Williams, in a letter 
to Endicott, some of his pithy and memorable sayings : " Sir, 
I must be humbly bold to say 't is impossible for any man 
or men to maintain their Christ by their sword, and to wor- 
ship a true Christ ! to fight against all consciences opposite 
theirs, and not to fight against God in some of them." One 
of the most eminent of the early magistrates of the Massa- 
chusetts colony. Sir Richard Saltonstall, who was then in 
England, wrote a letter severely reproving the Boston minis- 
ters : " We hoped the Lord would have given you so much 
light and love there, that you might have been eyes to God's 
people here, and not to practise those courses in a wilderness 
which you went so far to prevent." ^ 

^ Our most trustworthy source of information as to this affair is Dr. 
Clarke's III Newes from New England, London, 1653. The best mod- 
ern account is H. M. King, A Summer Visit of Three Rhode Islanders 
to the Massachusetts Bay in 16^ r. Providence, 1896. Mr. King makes 
short work of the attempts of Palfrey and Dexter to extenuate the con- 
duct of Massachusetts. Dr. Palfrey fancied that the visit to Brother 
Witter concealed a deep-laid political scheme on the part of Clarke. 
Coddington was entertaining plans which might have brought Rhode 
Island more or less under the jurisdiction of Massachusetts. Dr. Pal- 
frey's suggestion is that Clarke went to Swampscott in order to court 
persecution and thus fire the hearts of the Rhode Island Baptists to 
resist Coddington's plans. Dexter follows Palfrey. As this theory is 
purely a priori, unsupported by a scrap of evidence, it is hardly worthy 
of such excellent scholars. Why should it be thought necessary to slur 
over the faults of one's own state or one's own ancestors? If Dr. Pal- 




Tiii; Ni-:w l;n(;la\i) confedekacv 




The persecution of these Baptist visitors occiirretl, as al- 
ready observed, in the same year which witnessed the adop- 
tinn of the Camhridgc Platform, an event which we cited as 

frey's theory nf the case could be established, the conduct of the Mas- 
sachusetts authorities would appear not >i whit less odioti^. and it n 
seem very stu|>id withal, since it would be playing into Clarke's hand,! 




202 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

completing the theocratic organization of the Puritan com- 
monwealth in Massachusetts. It was immediately preceded 
and followed by the deaths of the two foremost men in that 
commonwealth. John Winthrop died in 1649 '^"^ John 
Cotton in 1652. Both were men of extraordinary power. 
Of Winthrop it is enough to say that under his skilful guid- 
ance Massachusetts had been able to pursue the daring 
policy which characterized the first twenty years of her his- 
tory, and which in weaker hands would almost surely have 
_ , , ended in disaster. Of Cotton it may be said that 

Deaths of -' . 

Winthrop hc was in some respects the most emment among 

and Cotton ^ -, vri • ii*i 

a group of clergymen who for learnmg and dialec- 
tical skill have seldom been surpassed. Neither Winthrop 
nor Cotton approved of toleration upon principle. Cotton, 
in his elaborate controversy with Roger Williams, frankly 
asserted that persecution is not wrong in itself ; it is wicked 
for falsehood to persecute truth, but it is the sacred duty 
of truth to persecute falsehood. This was the theologian's 
view. Winthrop's was that of a man of affairs. They had 
come to New England, he said, in order to make a society 
after their own model ; all who agreed with them might come 
and join that society ; those who disagreed with them might 
go elsewhere ; there was room enough on the American con- 
tinent. But while neither Winthrop nor Cotton understood 
the principle of religious liberty, at the same time neither of 
them had the temperament which persecutes. Both were 
men of genial disposition, sound common-sense, and exquisite 
tact. Under their guidance no such tragedy would have 
been possible as that which was about to leave its inefface- 
able stain upon the annals of Massachusetts. 

It was most unfortunate that at this moment the places 
of these two men should have been taken by two as arrant 
fanatics as ever drew breath. For thirteen out of the fifteen 
Endicott years following Winthrop's death, the governor of 
uke^hr"" Massachusetts was John Endicott, a sturdy pio- 
lead neer, whose services to the colony had been great. 

He was honest and conscientious, but passionate, domineer- 





iKAiiMi.Ni »•!" A irrri.i! ikom iti.ivr.K t i<nMWi;i.i. ti> john <.(>iTnN 




L 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 205 

ing, and very deficient in tact. At the same time Cotton's 
successor in position and influence was John Norton, a man 
of pungent wit, unyielding temper, and melancholy mood. 
He was possessed by a morbid fear of Satan, whose hirelings 
he thought were walking up and down over the earth in the 
visible semblance of heretics and schismatics. Under such 
leaders the bigotry latent in the Puritan commonwealth 
might easily break out in acts of deadly persecution. 

The occasion was not long in coming. Already the preach- 
ing of George Fox had borne fruit, and the noble sect of 
Quakers was an object of scorn and loathing to all such as 
had not gone so far as they toward learning the true lesson 
of Protestantism. Of all Protestant sects the Quakers went 
furthest in stripping off from Christianity its non-essential 
features of doctrine and ceremonial. Their ideal The 
was not a theocracy but a separation between ^'jUiS 
church and state. They would abolish all distinc- ^'»«^s 
tion between clergy and laity, and could not be coaxed or bul- 
lied into paying tithes. They also refused to render military 
service, or to take the oath of allegiance. In these ways 
they came at once into antagonism both with church and 
with state. In doctrine their chief peculiarity was the asser- 
tion of an ** Inward Light " by which every individual is to 
be guided in his conduct of life. They did not believe that 
men ceased to be divinely inspired when the apostolic ages 
came to an end, but held that at all times and places the 
human soul may be enlightened by direct communion with 
its Heavenly Father. Such views involved the most abso- 
lute assertion of the right of private judgment ; and when it 
is added that in the exercise of this right many Quakers 
were found to reject the dogmas of original sin and the 
resurrection of the body, to doubt the efficacy of baptism, 
and to call in question the propriety of Christians turning 
the Lord's Day into a Jewish Sabbath, we see that they had 
in some respects gone far on the road toward modem ration- 
alism. It was not to be expected that such opinions should 
be treated by the Puritans in any other spirit than one of 



2o6 THE BEGIXNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

extreme abhorrence and dread. The doctrine of the "In- 
\%-ard Light," or of priN-ate inspiration, ^-as something espe- 
ciaUy hateful to the Puritan. To the modern rationalist, 
looking at things in the dry light of histor)', it may seem 
that this doctrine was only the Puritan's own appeal to 
indi\idual judgment, stated in different form ; but the Puri- 
tan could not so regard it. To such a fanatic as Norton 
this inward light ^*as but a reflection from the glare of the 
bottomless pit, this private inspiration was the beguiling 
voice of the DeviL As it led the Quakers to strange and 
novel conclusions, this inward light seemed to array itself in 
hostility to that final court of appeal for all good Protest- 
ants, the sacred te.\t of the Bible. The Quakers were 

accordingly regarded as infidels who 
Jo An jCorhn. sought to deprive Protestantism of its 

only firm support. They were wTongly 
accused of blasphemy in their treatment of the Scriptures. 
Cotton Mather says that the Quakers were in the habit 
of alluding to the Bible as the Word of the De\'il. Such 
charges, from passionate and uncritical enemies, are worth- 
less e.xcept as they serve to explain the bitter prejudice 
with which the Quakers were regarded. They remind one 
of the silly accusation brought against Wyclif two centuries 
earlier, that he taught his disciples that God ought to obey 
the Devil ; * and they are not altogether unlike the assump- 
tions of some modem theologians who take it for granted 
that any writer who accepts the Darwinian theor)* must be 
a materialist. 

But worthless as Mather's statements are. in describing 
the views of the Quakers, they are valuable as indicating 
the temper in which these disturbers of the Puritan theo- 
cracy were regarded- In accusing them of rejecting the 
Bible and making a law unto themselves, Mather simply 
put on record a general belief which he shared. Nor can 
it be doubted that the demeanour of the Quaker enthusiasts 
was ^ometimes such as to seem to warrant the belief that 

''■ Milman. Latin Christianity, vii. 390. 




THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 207 

their anarchical doctrines entailed, as a natural consequence, 
disorderly and disreputable conduct. In those days violent 
all manifestations of dissent were apt to be vio- u'^i"^of^' 
lent, and the persecution which they encountered dLvsent 
was likely to call forth strange and unseemly vagaries. 
When we remember how the Quakers, in their scorn of 
earthly magistrates and princes, would hoot at the gov- 
ernor as he walked up the street ; how they used to rush into 
church on Sundays and interrupt the sermon with untimely 
remarks ; how Thomas Newhouse once came into the old 
First Meeting-House with a glass bottle in each hand, and, 
holding them up before the astonished congregation, knocked 
them together and smashed them, with the remark, " Thus 
will the Lord break you all in pieces" ; how Lydia Wardwell 
and Deborah Wilson ran about the streets in the primitive 
costume of Eve before the fall, and called their conduct 
"testifying before the Lord" ; ^ we can hardly wonder that 
people should have been reminded of the wretched scenes 
enacted at Miinster by the Anabaptists of the preceding 
century. 

^ Similar instances occurred now and then in Kn«;lan(l. ** One thing 
extraordinar)' was, this day a man, a Ouaker, came naked through the 
[Westminster] Hall, only very civilly tied about the loins to avoid scan- 
dal, and with a chafing-dish of fire and brimstone burninji; upon his 
head, did pass through the Hall, crying. * Repent ! repent ." " — Pepys' 
Diary, July 29, 1667. Cf. De Foe's History of the Pliii^uc of London, 
p. 26. As for Thomas Newhouse, his reputation as a disturber seems 
to have been widesprea<l, if he is the person mentioned in the Records 
of Lower Norfolk County, Virginia, in August and October, 1683. 
*' Whereas W" porten hath Represented to this Court that hee hath 
been Informed that One Thomas newhouse (beefore a Certane number 
of people that mett upon fryday last att the house of Gilbert Lewes to 
hcere him Speake) did declare Severall words In derogation of the 
bible amounting to blasphemy It is therefore ordered that the Shrff 
take the sd newhouse Into his Custody and him Safely deteyne till hee 
I'-nter Into bond w*** good Security to ans' what .shall bee objected ag* 
him in that behalf att the next Court.*' The entr>' of October 15 finds 
the charge *' sufitiently prouved," and puts " the sd newhouse " under 
bonds to appear before the (leneral Court for trial. See Williavt and 
Mary Collei^e (Jitartrr/y, ii. 17.S, 179. 



2o8 THE BEGINNIXGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Such incidents, however, do not afford the slightest excuse 
for the cruel treatment which the Quakers received in 
Boston, nor do they go far toward explaining it. Persecu- 
tion began immediately, just as in the case of Dr. Clarke 
and his friends, before the new-comers had a chance to 
behave themselves well or ill. Their mere coming to Bos- 
ton was taken as an act of invasion. It was indeed an 
attack upon the Puritan theocratic idea. Of all the sectaries 
of that age of sects, the 

Quakers were the most ^i^^^^ A -« /. . / 
aggressive. There were f\^^^^^^ As^^H^c^PX 

at one time more than 

four thousand of them in English jails ; ^ yet when any of 
them left England, it was less to escape such persecution 
than to preach their doctrines far and wide over the earth. 
Their missionaries found their way to Paris, to Vienna ; even 
to Rome, where they testified under the very roof of the 
Vatican. In this dauntless spirit they came to New Eng- 
land to convert its inhabitants, or at any rate to establish 
the principle that in whatever community it might please 
them to stay, there they would stay in spite of judge or 
hangman. At first they came to Barbadoes, whence two 
Anne of their number, Anne Austin and Mary Fisher, 

Ausun and g^jj^j j^^. j^^ston. When they landed, on a May 
Fisher momiug in 1656, Endicott happened to be away 
from Boston, but the deputy-governor, Richard Bellingham, 
was equal to the occasion. He arrested the two women and 
locked them up in jail, where, for fear they might proclaim 
their heresies to the crowd gathered outside, the windows 
were boarded up. There was no law as yet enacted against 
Quakers, but a council summoned for the occasion pro- 
nounced their doctrines blasphemous and devili.sh. The 
books which the poor women had with them were seized and 
publicly burned, and the women themselves were kept in 

^ A larjje number of these prisoners, perhaps the majority, were 
charged with contempt of court for refusing to take an oath, wearing 
their hats before the magistrates, etc. 





Heart of 3\QjEngland 

rent iat the 

BLASPHEMIES 

OF THE PRESENT 

gENERATlOT^, 

Or 

A l>rirf Toatte concerning the Doarioc of 
tbeQBjkcrs,l)cnon[lrjtmj> the Jcftniaivc namte 
thetco^ toRcligioii, the Churches, anil the State, 
with eonfi-ferarion of the Remedy againft it. 
Ocnfioni! Satisftftiun to ObjcAions, and Coiifir-^ 
rauion of the coatratj' Ttuctht 

By j.Ot/Ji TjlORTONj Tcicber of the 

Church of Chrift at "Baflon^. 
i\ii9Vf.ti aepumte,! li-'ei/n'i /; rit OrJer tf iff 
GENERAL COURT. 

/ t^aw thy nwkj > •*"^ '^J Uhanr , an J putunei, 
And haw ib'u '-'"ii "" f''"' '*"** "v^'t'j '»'* tyffi 
Mad ibtH ij/l iry'^ ih;m whxh fy ihty *ft ApfJUts, ^ 

AndM-tHM,md i.ijif'/.ioiii/.tmljM-tKcv.Z.Z. { \ 

I 



intcJW .tiwrt^lT-rw.-. at C.\MBRIDG 
in JV.ir-f»i/.i«</. 1659. 



.■ r?r ? r ■? i' J< :;»i'»'»i'»?i'TJ'i'-S' if r»»»» ?»»*•» J 



^-: t 



\'4: Qfihe SAD and GREAT 

y^^^^tion and Martyrdom 

V f. ^ -' Of the Peopleof God, called 

,QJ;AKERS, m NEry''ENGL,ANI>» 

. for the WoHhipping of God. 

tiir have been Banillied upon pain of Death* 
C r©3 have bcenJ4ARTYRED. 

\ ,^ \ 02 Jbave had rhei( Right-Eais cut. 

'"'' " ^'of fta^^ been buincd in the Hand imlL ft 

3 1 Perfons have rccc iya^ diStrifcff 
^ o X was bear whi le l^WK^i like a jel!y« 
yih^idij Several wea» beat wiih Pitdied Ropes. 

\ Five Appeals made to Efiiamlp vvcie denied 
by ihe Ruleis of 5^m. 
Crib (houfand forty four pounds worth of Goods bat&j 
been taken fiom cbem (being poor men) for meeting ^ 
together in the fear o{ the Lord, and fox keeping the 
Commands of Chiift.. 
One now lyetb in IionrfetterSj condemned to dyer 



■•V •. 



* A L.S 0> 



Some Cossi per ations, prefenced to the X I N G, which is 
in jififrvcr 10 a petition aiul IJlKjefift ^^i^^b was prefented 




Gal, 4. 29. tin M tktfi^ he that wm born after thefiefh^' ferfccaici • 

him that w.v barn after the Spirit ^ evcfi Jo It V *»wi 
God h^h no ttC\yc& O dhu Sicrifce^ih^i kiKeJ his ftoilirr 4bOUl Ilel<£r(MI# 

• • • 

L'lKioK^ Printed for Robert fVilfon^ in M.tttins Le Crattd, 

ii:-'ii>i «M III! '"I \Ki i:^. »i »:i i-iri h IN n»Mt<iN i\kiv i\ i'>f'ii 




THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 211 

prison half-starved for five weeks, until the ship they had 
come in was ready to return to Barbadoes. Soon after 
their departure Endicott came home. He found fault with 
Bellingham's conduct as too gentle ; if he had been there he 
would have had the hussies flogged. 

Five years afterward Mary Fisher went to Adrianople and 
tried to convert the Grand Turk, who treated her with grave 
courtesy and allowed her to prophesy unmolested. This is 
one of the numerous incidents that, on a superficial view of 
history, might be cited in support of the opinion that there 
has been on the whole more tolerance in the Mussulman 
than in the Christian world. Rightly interpreted, however, 
the fact has no such implication. In Massachusetts the 
preaching of Quaker doctrines might (and did) lead to a 
revolution ; in Turkey it was as harmless as the barking 
of dogs. Governor Endicott was afraid of Mary Fisher ; 
Mahomet III. was not. 

No sooner had the two women been shipped from Boston 
than eight other Quakers arrived from London. They were 
at once arrested. While they were lying in jail the Federal 
Commissioners, then in session at Plymouth, recommended 
that laws be forthwith enacted to keep these dreaded here- 
tics out of the land. Next year they stooped so far as to 
seek the aid of Rhode Island, the colony which they had 
refused to admit into their ctmfederacy. "They sent a 
letter to the authorities of that colony, signing themselves 
their loving friends and neighbours, and beseeching them to 
preserve the whole body of colonies against * such a pest ' by 
banishing and excluding all Quakers, a measure to which 
*the rule of charity did oblige them.' " Roger Williams was 
then president of Rhode Island, and in full accord Noble 
with his noble spirit was the reply of the assembly. o/^Khode 
"We have no law amongst us whereby to punish '^s^a"d 
any for only declaring by words their minds and understand- 
ings concerning the things and ways of God as to salvation 
and our eternal condition." As for these Quakers, we find 
that where they are " most of all suffered to declare them- 



212 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

selves freely and only opposed by arguments in discourse, 
there they least of all desire to come." Any breach of the 
civil law shall be punished, but the " freedom of different 
consciences shall be respected." This reply enraged the con- 
federated colonies, and Massachusetts, as the strongest and 
most overbearing, threatened to cut off the trade of Rhode 
Roger Island, which forthwith appealed to Cromwell for 

appeaiTto protection. The language of the appeal is as 
Cromwell touchiug as its broad Christian spirit is grand. It 
recognizes that by stopping trade the men of Massachusetts 
will injure themselves, yet, it goes on to say, "for the safe- 
guard of their religion they may seem to neglect themselves 
in that respect ; for what will not men do for their God ? " 
But whatever fortune may befall, ** let us not be compelled 
to exercise any civil power over men's consciences." ^ 

There could never, of course, be a doubt as to who drew 
up this state paper. During his last visit to England, three 
years before, Roger Williams had spent several weeks at Sir 
Harry V^ane's country house in Lincolnshire, and he had also 
been intimately as.sociated with Cromwell and Milton. The 
views of these great men were the most advanced of that 
age. They were coming to understand the true principle 
upon which toleration should be bascd.^ Vane had said in 
Parliament, " Why should the labours of any be suppressed, 
if sober, though never so different ? We now profess to 
seek God, we desire to see light ! " This Williams called a 
** heavenly speech." The .sentiment it expressed was in 
accordance with the practical policy of Cromwell, and in the 
appeal of the president of Rhode Island to the Lord Pro- 
tector one hears the tone with which friend speaks to friend. 

In thus ])rotccting the Quakers, Williams never for a 
moment concealed his antipathy to their doctrines. The 
author of "(leorge Fox digged out of his Hurrowes," the 
sturdy controversialist who in his seventy-third year rowed 
himself in a boat the whole length of Xarmgansett bay to 

' Rhode Isltiiul Kecords, i. 377. 378. 

- See niv Excursions of an Evolutionist, ])p. 247. 2S9-293. 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 213 

engage in a theological tournament against three Quaker 
champions, was animated by nothing less than the broadest 
liberalism in his bold reply to the Federal Commissioners in 
1657. The event showed that under his guidance the policy 
of Rhode Island was not only honourable but wise. The 
four confederated colonies all proceeded to pass laws ban- 
ishing Quakers and making it a penal offence for Laws 
shipmasters to bring them to New I^ngland. These J^f^^t ^i^^ 
laws differed in severity. Those of Connecticut, in Quakers 
which we may trace the influence of the younger John 
Winthrop, were the mildest ; those of Massachusetts were 
the most severe, and as Quakers kept coming all the more 
in spite of them, they grew harsher and harsher. At first 
the Quaker who j^ersisted in returning was to be flogged 
and imprisoned at hard labour, next his ears were to be cut 
off, and for a third offence his tongue was to be bored with 
a hot iron. At length, in 1658, the Federal Commissioners, 
sitting at Boston with Endicott as chairman, recommended 
capital punishment. It must be borne in mind that the gen- 
eral reluctance toward prescribing or inflicting the The death 
death j^enalty was much weaker then than now. On p^"^^^^ 
the statute-books there were not less than fifteen capital 
crimes, including such offences as idolatry, witchcraft, blas- 
phemy, marriage within the Levitical degrees, "presumptu- 
ous sabbath-breaking," and cursing or smiting one's parents.^ 
The infliction of the penalty, however, lay practically very 
much within the discretion of the court, and was generally 
avoided except in cases of murder or other heinous felony. 
In some of these ecclesiastical offences the statute seems 
to have served the purpose of a threat, and was therefore 
perhaps the more easily enacted. Yet none of the colonies 
except Massachusetts now adopted the suggestion of the 
Federal Commissioners and threatened the Quakers with 
death. 

In Massachusetts the opposition was very strong indeed, 

^ Co/on/(i/ /mti's 0/ A/<iss(u////sf//s, pp. i4-\6\ Levermore's Republic 
of \eu* Ilai'cti^ p. 153. 



214 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

and its character shows how wide the divergence in senti- 
ment had already become between the upper stratum of 
society and the people in general. This divergence was one 
result of the excessive weight given to the clergy by the 
restriction of the suffrage to church members. One might 
almost say that it was not the people of Massachusetts, after 
all, that shed the blood of the Quakers ; it was Endicott and 
the clergy. The bill establishing death as the penalty for 
returning after banishment was passed in the upper house 
without serious difficulty ; but in the lower house it was at 
first defeated. Of the twenty-six deputies fifteen were 
opposed to it, but one of these fell sick and two were in- 
timidated, so that finally the infamous measure was passed 
by a vote of thirteen against twelve. Probably it would 
not have passed but for a hopeful feeling that an occasion 
•for putting it into execution would not be likely to arise. 
It was hoped that the mere threat would prove effective. 
Endicott begged the Quakers to keep away, saying ear- 
nestly that he did not desire their death ; but the more 
resolute spirits were not deterred by fear of the gallows. 
^^.^— •...^^^ In September, 1659, William Rob- 

f^ ^ inson, Marmaduke Stevenson, and 

^^ ^^ ^ Mary Dyer, who had come to Bos- 



^0€t^ 



ton expressly to defy the cruel law, 
were banished. Mrs. Dyer was a 
lady of good family, wife of the secretary of Rhode Island. 
She had been an intimate friend of Mrs. Hutchinson.^ 
While she went home to her husband, Stevenson and Rob- 
inson went only to Salem and then faced about and came 
back to Boston. Mrs. Dyer also returned. All three felt 
themselves under divine command to resist and defy the 
persecutors. On the 27th of October they were led to the 
gallows on Boston Common, under escort of a hundred 

^ Mrs. Dyer seems to have been regarded in Boston with a super- 
stitious terror because of an absurd story that she had given birth to a 
frightful monster. The disgusting details are given in Cotton Mather's 
Magnalia. London, 1702, bk. vii. chap. 3. 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 215 

soldiers. Many people had begun to cry shame on such 
proceedings,^ and it was thought necessary to take 
precautions against a tumult. The victims tried to on Boston 
address the crowd, but their voices were drowned 
by the beating of drums. While the Rev. John Wilson railed 
and scoffed at them from the foot of the gallows the two 
brave men were hanged. The halter had been placed upon 
Mrs. Dyer when her son, who had come in all haste from 
Rhode Island, obtained her reprieve on his promise to take 
her away. The bodies of the two men were denied Christian 
burial and thrown uncovered into a pit. All the efforts of 
husband and son were unable to keep Mrs. Dyer at home. 
In the following spring she returned to Boston and on the 
first day of June was again taken to the gallows. At the 
last moment she was offered freedom if she would only 
promise to go away and stay, but she refused. "In obedi- 
ence to the will of the Lord I came," said she, ** and in his 
will I abide faithful unto death." And so she died. 

Public sentiment in Boston was now turning so strongly 
against the magistrates that they began to weaken in their 
purpose. But there was one more victim. In November, 
1660, William Leddra returned from banishment. The case 
was clear enough, but he was kept in prison four months 
and every effort was made to induce him to promise to leave 
the colony, but in vain. In the following March he too was 
put to death. A few days before the execution, as Leddra 
was being questioned in court, a memorable scene ^Y'eniock 
occurred. Wenlock Christison was one of those chmti- 
who had been banished under penalty of death, defiance 
On his return he made straight for the town-house, ^" ^'^ °^ 
strode into the court-room, and with uplifted finger addressed 
the judges in words of authority. " I am come here to warn 
you," said he, "that ye shed no more innocent blood." He 
was instantly seized and dragged off to jail. After three 

^ The younger John Winthrop, then fjjovernor of Connecticut, said 
that he would on his hare knees implore the Boston magistrates not to 
carry out the cruel sentence. 



2l6 



THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 




months he was brought to 
trial before the Court of As- 
sistants. The magistrates 
debated for more than a 
fortnight as to what should 
be done. The air was thick 
with mutterings of insur- 
rection, and they had lost 
all heart for their dreadful 
work. Not so the savage old 
man who presided, frown- 
ing gloomily under his black 
skull cap. Losing his pa- 
tience at last, Endicott smote 
the table with fury, ui> 
braided the judges for their 
weakness, and declared him- 
self so disgusted that he 
was ready to go back to 
England. 1 " You that will 
not consent, record it,*' he 
shouted, as the question was 
again put to vote, " I thank 
God I am not afraid to give 
judgment.** Christison was 
condemned to death, but the 
sentence was never execut- 
ed.- In the interx^al the leg- 
islature assembled, and the 
law was modified. The mar- 
tyrs had not died in vain. 
Their cause was victorious. 
A revolution had been ef- 
fected. The Puritan ideal 
of a commonwealth com- 
posed of a united body of 
believers was broken down, 




THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 217 

never again to be restored. The principle had been admitted 
that the heretic might come to Massachusetts and stay there. 

It was not in a moment, however, that these results were 
fully realized. For some years longer Quakers were fined, 
imprisoned, and now and then tied to the cart's tail and 
whipped from one town to another. But these acts of per- 
secution came to be more and more discountenanced by 
public opinion until at length they ceased. 

It was on the 25th of May, 1660, just one week before 
the martyrdom of Mary Dyer, that Charles II. returned to 
England to occupy his father's throne. One of the first 
papers laid before him was a memorial in behalf of the 

^ See my remarks above, p. 159. 

2 From a paper preserved in the State Archives of Massachusetts it 
has been rather hastily inferred that Christison saved his hfe by a kind 
of recantation. The paper is as follows : — 

'* I, the condemned man, doe give forth under my hand, that, if I 
may have my libarty, 1 have freedome to depart tliis Jurisdiction: and 
I know not y* ever I shall com into it any more. 

** WiNLoc K Christison. 

" From y (ioal in Boston. 

"y* 7^^ day of y V"* mo. 1661.'' 
In citing this paper Dr. Dexter, the able hut one-sided defender of 
the Massachusetts Puritans, incontinently declares that Christison, after 
all his bluster, '* showed the white feather." — .Is to Ko^er WilliamSs 
p. 131. But Dr. Ellis is more cautiou.s. It is not necessary, he says, 
to suppo.se that Christison's *• coura^^e failed him in view of the gallows. 
A divine prompting, which he claimed had brought him here, might 
also release him from bearing any further testimony." — The Puritan 
Age and Rule^ p. 472. The interpretation here suggested seems to me 
the true one. It will be observed that Christison does not promise to 
go away and never return : he says that he has *• freedom to depart,'* 
i. e., the Divine Light allows him to do so, and he does not know that 
it will ever again command him to return. Since he had discharged 
his duty in denouncing the murder of Leddra, his conscience allowed 
him to leave .Ma.ssachusetts, and he could not sav whether it would in 
future bring him back again or not. Such seems to me the plain mean- 
ing of his words, and doubtle.ss the magistrates so understood it, but 
were (all except Endicott) glad of an excuse for letting the prisoner go. 
In point of fact Christison did afterward return to Boston. See Halhv 
well, The (2uaker Invasion of Massachusetts, p. 61. 



THE BECINNINGS OF NKW ICMiLAND 




opprcs-sod Quakers iii New luifrland. In the ourBe of the 
foUowiiifj year hu sent a letter to I''iHlic(ttt and the 
■Kincs uther New ICnj;tand f^overnors, <ir(lcrin<; tlieni to 
suspend pmcL'edinjrs afjuinst the Onakers. and if 
any were tlien in prismi, to send them to I-Ji{;l;ind for trial 
Cliristison's victory had already been won, bnt the "King's 
^fissi\e " was now partially obeyed by the release of all 
prisoners. As for sending anybody to Kngland for trial. 



THK NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 219 

that was something that no New England government could 
ever be made to allow. 

Charles's defence of the Quakers was due, neither to lib- 
erality of disposition nor to any sympathy with them, but 
rather to his inclinations toward Romanism. Unlike in other 
respects, Quakers and Catholics were alike in this, that they 
were the only sects which the Protestant world in general 
agreed in excluding from toleration. Charles wished 
to secure toleration for Catholics, and he could not chariei 11. 
prudently take steps toward this end without pur- Jo'ra^Kc 
suing a policy broad enough to diminish persecutio 
in other directions, and from these circumstances 
the Quakers profited. At times there was something almost 
like a political alliance between Quaker and Catholic, as in- 
.stanced in the relations between William Penn and Charles's 
brother, the Duke of York. 

Besides all this, Charles had good reason to feel that the 







governments of New England were assuming too many airs 
of sovereignty. There were plenty of people at hand to 
work upon his mind. The friends of Gorton and Child and 
Vassall were loud with their complaints. Samuel Maverick 
swore that the people of New lingland were all rebels, and 
he could prove it. The king was assured that the Confed- 
eracy was "a war combination, made by the four colonies 
when they had a design to throw off their dependence on 
England, and for that purpose." The enemies of the New 
England people, while dilating upon the rebellious disposition 
of Massachusetts, could also remind the king that for several 



220 THK ISEGINMXGS OK NEW KXGLAND 

years that coluiiy hud been coining and circulating shillings 
and six|>cncts with the tiamc "Massachusetts" and a tret* 
(in one side, and the name "New Hngland" with the date 





on the otJiLT. There was no iec<>j^iiili<iii of luigland upon 
this ciiina-ie. whieh was beL;iiii in k'i.;^ and kept up for more 
than thiity years. Sucli iiieces of nmney used to l>e called 
"pine-tn-e sliiiiin.i^s" : but. s<) lar as luiiks ■^•: the tree might 
be alniii>t aii>thiii;i. and an adniil Irleiid of New Kngland 
'ince ^n-aVL-ly a^Mired llie kin;,^ that it was nie;int for the 
ri.val nak in' whieh hi- rn:.iestv hid himself after the battle 
of'Wor.esu-r! 



THK NEW KNGLANU CONFEDERACY ill 

Against the colony of New Haven the king had a special 
grudge. Two of the regicide judges, who had sat in the tri- 
bunal which condemned his father, escaped to New England 
in 1660 and were well received there. They were gentlemen 
of high position. Kdward Whalley was a cousin of Cromwell 
and Hampden. He had distinguished himself at Naseby 
and Dunbar, and had risen to the rank of lieutenant-general. 
He had commanded at the cajiture of Worcester, rheteEi- 
where it is interesting to obsen'O that the royalist ridej"3g» 
commander who surrendered to him was Colonel Henry 
Washington, own cousin to the great-grandfather of George 
Washington. The other regicide, William Goffe, as a major- 
general in Cromwell's army, had won such distinction that 
there were some who pointed to him as the proper jjerson to 
succeed the I^rd Protector on the death of the latter. He 




had married Whallcy's daughter. Soon after the arrival of 
the.-ie gentlemen, a royal order for their arrest was sent to 
Boston. If they had been arrested and sent back to Eng- 
land, tlieir sevei-eil heads would soon have been placed o\-er 
Temple Har, The king's detectives hotly pursued them 
thrimgh the woodland jjaths of New lingland, and they 
would soon have been taken but for the aid they got from 
the [wople. Many are the stories of their hairbreadth es- 
cai>es. Sometimes they took refuge in a cave on a mountain 




222 THE BEGINxVINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

near New Haven, sometimes they hid in friendly cellars ; 
and once, being hard put to it, they skulked under a wooden 
bridge, while their pursuers on horseback galloped by over- 
head. After lurking about New Haven and Milford for two 
or three years, on hearing of the expected arrival of Colonel 
Nichols and his commission, they sought a more secluded 
hiding-place near Hadley, a village lately settled far up the 
Connecticut river, within the jurisdiction of Massachusetts. 
Here the avengers lost the trail, the pursuit was abandoned, 
and the weary regicides were presently forgotten. The peo- 
ple of New Haven had been especially zealous in shielding 

the fugitives. Mr. Dav- 
enport had not only har- 
boured them in his own 
house, but on the Sab- 
bath before their expect- 
ed arrival he had preached 
a verybold sermon, openly 
advising his people to aid and comfort them as far as possi- 
ble.^ The colony, moreover, did not officially recognize the 
restoration of Charles H. to the throne until that event had 

1 The daring passage in the sermon is thus given in Bacon's Histori- 
cal Discourses^ New Haven, 1838: *' Withhold not countenance, enter- 
tainment, and protection from the people of God — whom men may 
call fools and fanatics — if any such come to you from other countries, 
as from France or England, or any other place. Be not forgetful to 
entertain strangers. Remember those that are in bonds, as bound with 
them. The Lord required this of Moab, saying, * Make thy shado\y as 
the night in the midst of the noonday ; hide the outcasts ; bewray not 
him that wandereth. Let mine outcasts dwell with thee, iMoab; be 
thou a covert to them from the face of the spoiler.* Is it objected — 
*But so I may expose myself to be spoiled or troubled?' He, there- 
fore, to remove this objection, addeth, ' For the extortioner is at an 
end, the spoiler ceaseth, the oppressors are consumed out of the land.* 
While we are attending to our duty in owning and harbouring Christ's 
witnesses, (Jod will be providing for their and our safety, by destroying 
those that would destroy his people." 

While the king's otificers were in hot pursuit of Goffe and W^halley, a 
third regicide judge, Colonel John Dixweil, had taken refuge in Ger- 



I 




(^«7^^'i)•^«n/&o■l^ 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 223 

been commonly known in New England for more than a 
year. For these reasons the wrath of the king was specially 
roused against New Haven, when circumstances combined 
to enable him at once to punish this disloyal colony and deal 
a blow at the Confederacy. 

We have seen that in restricting the suffrage to church 
members New Haven had followed the example of Massa- 
chusetts, but Connecticut had not ; and at this time there 
was warm controversy between the two younger ^^^, 
colonies as to the wisdom of such a policy. As '^a^en 

. tr J annexed 

yet none of the colonies save Massachusetts had toCon- 
obtained a charter, and Connecticut was naturally 
anxious to obtain one. Whether through a complaisant 
spirit connected with this desire, or through mere accident, 
Connecticut had been prompt in acknowledging the restora- 
tion of Charles II. ; and in August, 1661, she disj)atched the 
younger Winthrop to England to apply for a charter. Win- 
throp was a man of winning address and wide culture. 
His scientific tastes were a passj)ort to the favour of the 
king at a time when the Royal Society was being founded, 

of which Winthroj) himself was 

^ p % ^ soon chosen a fellow. In every 

•p^l\rt\ SD/9C>UiflC^ way the occasion was an aus- 

^XCc^ picious one. The king looked 

^ ' land Confederacy with unfriendly 

eyes. Massachusetts was as yet 
the only member of the league that was really troublesome ; 
and there seemed to be no easier way to weaken her than to 
raise up a rival power by her side, and extend to it such priv- 
ileges as might awaken her jealousy. All the more would 

many. He came to New England four years afterward, and joined 
his two friends at Hadley P'ebruary 10, 1655. Some years later he re- 
moved to New Haven, where he continued to dwell, under the name of 
James David.s, until his death in 1689. Palfrey says the British gov- 
ernment never traced him to America. See Stiles's History of the 
Three Juiigfs, Hartford, 1794. 



224 THK BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

such a policy be likely to succeed if accompanied by mea- 
sures of which Massachusetts must necessarily disapprove, 
and the suppression of New Haven would be such a measure. 
In accordance with these views, a charter of great liber- 
ality was at once granted to Connecticut, and by the same 
instrument the colony of New Haven was deprived of its 
separate existence and annexed to its stronger neighbour. 
As if to emphasize the motives which had led to this display 
of royal favour toward Connecticut, an equally liberal char- 
ter was granted to Rhode Island. In the summer of 1664 
Charles II. sent a couple of ships-of-war to Boston harbour, 
with 400 troops under command of Colonel Richard Nich- 
ols, who had been appointed, along with Samuel Maverick 



^^xcAayik> fU-catCt 




^d&y^ (2ir 



and two others as royal commissioners, to look after the 
affairs of the New World. Colonel Nichols took his ships 
to New Amsterdam, and captured that important town. Af- 
ter his return the commissioners held meetings at Boston, 
and for a time the Massachusetts charter seemed in danger. 
But the Puritan magistrates were shrewd, and months were 
frittered away to no purpose. Presently the Dutch made 
war upon England, and the king felt it to be unwise to irri- 
tate the people of Massachusetts beyond endurance. The 
turbulent state of English politics which followed still fur- 



THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY 225 

ther absorbed his attention, and New England had another 
respite of several years. 

In New Haven a party had grown up which was dissatis- 
fied with its extreme theocratic policy and approved of the 
union with Connecticut. Davenport and his followers, the 
founders of the colony, were beyond measure disgusted. 



}€o 4AO \A\Oi^ ^x^ 






They spurned "the Christless rule" of the sister colony. 
Many of them took advantage of the recent conquest of 
New Netherland, and a strong party, led by the Founding 
Rev. Abraham Pierson, of Branford, migrated to ^^ ^^^^ark 
the banks of the Passaic in June, 1667, and laid the founda- 
tions of Newark. Vox some years to come the theocratic 
idea that had given birth to New Haven continued to live 
on in New Jersey. As for Mr. Davenport, he went to Bos- 
ton and ended his days there. Cotton Mather, writing at a 
later date, when the theocratic scheme of the early settlers 
had been manifestly outgrown and suj)erseded, says of Dav- 
enport : " Vet, after all, the Lord gave him to see that in 
this world a Church-State was imj)ossible, whereinto there 
enters nothing which defiles.'* 

The theocratic policy, alike in New Haven and in Massa- 
chusetts, broke down largely through its inherent weakness. 
It divided the community, and created among the Breaking 
people a party adverse to its arrogance and e.xclu- fhe^"^t!r* 
siveness. This state of things facilitated the sup- po^'<^>* 
pression of New Haven by royal edict, and it made possible 
the victory of Wenlock Christison in Massachusetts. We 
can now see the fundamental explanation of the deadly 



226 THE BEGINxMNGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

hostility with which Endicott and his party regarded the 
Quakers. The latter aimed a fatal blow at the very root 
of the idea which had brought the Puritans to New England. 
Once admit these heretics as citizens, or even as tolerated 
sojourners, and there was an end of the theocratic state con- 
sisting of a united body of believers. It was a life-and-death 
struggle, in which no quarter was given ; and the Quakers, 
aided by popular discontent with the theocracy, even more 
than by the intervention of the crown, won a decisive victory. 
As the work of planting New England took place chiefly 
in the eleven years 1629- 1640, during which Charles I. 
. contrived to reign without a parliament, so the 
of the Con- prosperous period of the New England Confeder- 
acy, 1643-1664, covers the time of the Civil War 
and the Commonwealth, and just laps on to the reign of 
Charles II. By the summary extinction of the separate 
existence of one of its members for the benefit of another, 
its vigour was sadly impaired. But its constitution was 
revised so as to make it a league of three states instead of 
four ; and the Federal Commissioners kept on holding their 
meetings, though less frequently, until the revocation of the 
Massachusetts charter in 1684. During this period a great 
Indian war occurred, in the course of which this concentra- 
tion of the military strength of New England, imperfect as 
it was, proved itself very useful. In the history of New 
England, from the restoration of the Stuarts until their final 
expulsion, the two most important facts are the military 
struggle of the newly founded states with the Indians, and 
their constitutional struggle against the l^ritish government. 
The troubles and dangers of 1636 were renewed on a much 
more formidable scale, but the strength of the people had 
waxed greatly in the mean time, and the new perils were 
boldly overcome or skilfully warded off; not, however, un- 
til the constitution of Massachusetts had been violently 
wrenched out of shape in the struggle, and seeds of conflict 
sown which in the following century were to bear fruit in 
the American Revolution. 



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II 

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-wsS'is 3™. *a.MO"0 _'= — "* — » 




lt§||||if fgJl|!e|l|!|| 
IliililSl 5^iEP-f?al^|l 












illlillilii^illili^iltli. 



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i 



CHAPTER V 

KING Philip's war 

For eight-and-thirty years after the destruction of the 
Pequots, the intercourse between the English and the In- 
dians was to all outward appearance friendly. The policy 
pursued by the settlers was in the main well considered. 
While they had shown that they could strike with terrible 
force when blows were needed, their treatment of the natives 
in time of peace seems to have been generally just puntans 
and kind. Except in the single case of the con- and Indians 
quered Pequot territory, they scrupulously paid for every 
rood of ground on which they settled, and so far as possible 
they extended to the Indians the protection of the law. On 
these points we have the explicit testimony of Josiah Wins- 
low, governor of Plymouth, in his report to the Federal 
Commissioners in May, 1676 ; and what he says about 
Plymouth seems to have been equally true of the other 
colonies. Says Winslow, '' I think I can clearly say that 
before these j)resent troubles broke out, the English did not 
possess one foot of land in this colony but what was fairly 
obtained by honest purchase of the Indian proprietors. Nay, 
because some of our people are of a covetous disposition, and 
the Indians are in their straits easily prevailed with to part 
with their lands, we first made a law that none should pur- 
chase or receive of gift any land of the Indians without the 
knowledge and allowance of our Court. ... And if at any 
time they have brought complaints before us, they have had 
justice impartial and speedy, so that our own people have 
frequently complained that we erred on the other hand in 
showing them overmuch favour." The general laws of 
Massachusetts and Connecticut as well as of Plymouth bear 



* ' 



228 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

out what Winslow says, and show us that as a matter of 
policy the colonial governments were fully sensible of the 
importance of avoiding all occasions for quarrel with their 
savage neighbours. 

There can, moreover, be little doubt that the material 
comfort of the Indians was for a time considerably improved 
by their dealings with the white men. Hitherto their want 
of foresight and thrift had been wont to involve them during 
the long winters in a dreadful struggle with famine. Now 
, the .settlers were ready to pay liberally for the skin of every 
Trade with fur-covcred animal the red men could catch ; and 
the Indians whcrc the trade thus arising did not suffice to keep 
off famine, instances of generous charity were frequent. 
The Algonquin tribes of New England lived chiefly by 
hunting, but partly by agriculture. They raised beans and 
corn, and succotash was a dish which they contributed to 
the white man's table. They could now raise or buy Kng- 
lish vegetables, while from dogs and horses, pigs and poul- 
try, oxen and sheep, little as they could avail themselves of 
such useful animals, they nevertheless derived some benefit.* 
! Better blankets and better knives were brought within their 

1 reach ; and in spite of all the colonial governments could do 

: to prevent it, they were to some extent enabled to supply 

themselves with muskets and rum. 

Besides all this trade, which, except in the article of liquor, 
tended to improve the condition of the native tribes, there 
was on the part of the earlier settlers an earnest and dili- 
' gent effort to convert them to Christianity and give them 
Missionary the rudiments of a civiliz.ed education. Missionary 
Tho^nias ^vork was begun in 1643 by Thomas Mayhew on 
Mayhcw ^hc islands of Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard. 
The savages at first declared they were not so silly as to 
barter thirtv-seven tutelar deities for one, but after much 
preaching and many ])ow-wows Mayhew succeeded in per- 
suading them that the Deity of the white man was mightier 
than all their manitous. Whether they ever got much 
* Palfrey, History of Xnc }\n\rlanii, iii. 13S-140. 



i| 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 229 

further than this toward a comprehension of the white man's 
religion may be doubted ; but they were prevailed upon to 
let their children learn to read and write, and even to set up 
little courts, in which justice was administered according to 
some of the simplest rules of English law, and from which 
there lay an appeal to the court of Plymouth. In 1646 
Massachusetts enacted that the elders of the churches 
should choose two persons each year to go and spread the 
gospel among the Indians. In 1649 Parliament established 
the Society for propagating the Gospel in New England, and 
presently from voluntary contributions the society was able 
to dispose of an annual income of ^2000. Schools were set 
up in which agriculture was taught as well as religion. It 
was even intended that Indians should go to Harvard Col- 
lege, and a building was erected for their accommodation, 
but as none came to occupy it, the college printing-press was 
presently set to work there. One solitary Indian student 
afterward succeeded in climbing to the bachelor's degree, 
— Caleb Cheeshahteaumuck of the class of 1665. It was 
this one success that was marvellous, not the failure of 
the scheme, which vividly shows how difficult it was for the 
white man of that day to understand the limitations of the 
red man. 

The greatest measure of success in converting the Indians 
was attained by that famous linguist and preacher, the 
apostle John Eliot. This remarkable man was a 
graduate of Jesus College, Cambridge. He had 
come to Massachusetts in 1631, and in the following year 
had been settled as teacher in the church at Roxbury of 
which Thomas Welde was pastor. He had been distin- 
guished at the university for philological scholarship and for 
linguistic talent, — two things not always found in connec- 
tion, — and now during fourteen years he devoted such time 
as he could to acquiring a complete mastery of the Algon- 
quin dialect spoken by the Indians of Massachusetts bay. 
To the modern comparative philologist his work is of great 
value. He published not only an excellent Indian grammar, 



230 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

but a complete translation of the Bible into the Massachu- 
setts language, — a monument of prodigious labour. It 
is one of the most instructive documents in existence for 
the student of Algonquin speech, though the Massachusetts 
tribe and its language have long been extinct, and there are 
very few scholars living who can read the book.* It has 
become one of the curiosities of literature and at auction 
sales of private libraries commands an extremely high price. 
Yet out of the diction of this rare book the American public 
has within the last few years contrived to pick up a word 
which we shall very likely continue to hear for some time to 
come. In ICliot's Bible, the word which means a great chief 
— such as Joshua, or Gideon, or Joab — is *' mugwump." ^ 

It was in 1646 that Eliot began his missionary preaching 
at a small Indian village near Watertown. President Dun- 
ster, of Harvard College, and Mr. Shepard, the minister at 
Cambridge, felt a warm interest in the undertaking. These 

^ It i.s partially intelligible, however, to some Algonquin tribes now 
in existence, such as the Ojibways. In such a passage, for example, 
as the folloNvin<^ (.Matthew v. 1-3) — 

N.iuont n)ooche(|ush:ioh, o^quodchuau wadchuut, kah na inat.ipit, ukkodnctuh ta6- 

iiruinoh pcvauoDiik. 
Kah woshwuuum wiittoun. iikkuliko(itr>niaiiuh noowau. 
WiinnaiiiimoMj; ko(Uuinnuinj4i.*tcahoiicheg. ii newutche wuttaihecu kesukque ketassoota- 

inoMiik. 

the jijeneral meanin.i; and nearly all the words individually are readily 
understood by scholars familiar with the Ojibway; and the passage, 
when read aloud, is intelligible to the Indians. See Procecdhti^s of tft€ 
Antrruau Antiiiitaridti Society, N. S. ix. 314-319. 

-' This word has always remained in local use along some parts of 
the coasts of Massachusetts and Connecticut, with the sense of *' a per- 
son of importance," or otherwise. ** a man who does not think small 
beer of himself."' In llie Tip/>rcii/iot' I .oj^-Ca hi n So piji^s fen 7i co\\(tc\\oTi 
of canipaii^n ballads ])ublished in 1S40, a certain Democratic candidate 
frir county commissioner in Illinois was called " the <;reat Mugwump." 
The word was used at least once that year in a newspaper editorial; it 
ai)peared in 1.S72 in the Indianaj)olis St'titiftel, and a<jain in the New 
York Sitti, March 23, 1SS4. When apj)lied to the Independent Repul> 
licans who suj)j)orted Cleveland ap^ainst Blaine, it happened to hit the 
popular fancy and came at once into «;eneral use. 






II 



ma 
ma 



ma 
ma 



ma 

ma 

ma 



WUS KU 



ma 



«6 



«6 
«6 



WUTTESTAMENTUM 



N U L-L O RD U M U N 



JESUS CHRIST 

NuppoqnohwufliucDcAmiuu 



!••<: 



ma 



2S 






K^,.^ 
/-^« * 



4'4'^'t 



n 




s: 




i: 



C A M h R I D Q E\ 

Frintcd by SAmuel green and t^tdrm^drnki 7*''^"**» 9g 

MDCLXI. gg 

§s 




§: 




I III. I. t»I ll-Itir> M.t;i»Ni»llN \ I.K>li»N ■»! I III M\V FIMAMINl 



MEMORIAL 

O R, 
A l)iiif Kflarion of itie moll Memorable and RemuVtoj 
PafTjBei ofthe Trovidencc of God, nuni&fltd lo ilic . 

P L A N T E R S' 

OF 

S^yvEngUnd in ^Jmericf- . 

With fpccial Rcrcrence :o the firfl Cnlony tliercofi Gd 

N E W-P L I M OUTH. 
As airo a Nomination of Jivcri of tlie moH Eminenc II 
deceafcd, boUiof Chunhsnd CnmnHifi-wejIth, improved -il 
fird beEinning and after-prDgrefs oF fundryof tlKK^eA 
Juril^ftions in tbofe Parts-, in leference umo {ludry 



pLblifhcd for ihe Ufe and &ene.'i[ of prcfenc and fntiir 

By NATHANIEL MOJITO N, 
Secretary to ilie Couit for tlic Jurifilidion ofNtw- Fii^iff^^ ■ jj 



ihl- I r.minmr tlpt, thtiUiali^ lb, >*^!t, iPlim tf ^ 

!■■ fid>W* frl ifllw H.-, rL. ^Jr J.,aj^i. Mm M I t^J ll^tl >._ m 



to KIT ie.AR5 ii r»ril'i/4.i 



icrf I'M! »mU 

V filiibli,;.fmd\ 



;' .1 Af B ;;, i 11 C c : 
TYimed by .r.C. .-ind Af. f. for 7»J,» VJIi^ of Bt/ltt'.j^ 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 233 

worthy men seriously believed that the aborigines of Amer- 
ica were the degenerate descendants of the ten lost tribes of 
Israel, and from this strange backsliding it was hoped that 
they might now be reclaimed. With rare eloquence and 
skill did Eliot devote himself to the difficult work of reaching 
the Indian's scanty intelligence and still scantier moral 
sense. His ministrations reached from the sands of Cape 
Cod to the rocky hillsides of Brookfield. But he soon found 
that sincfle-handed he could achieve but little over ,,.„ 

^ \ illages of 

SO wide an area, and accordingly he adopted the christian 

.. ^ , . . , . . ... Indians 

policy of colonizmg his converts m village commu- 
nities near the English towns, where they might be seques- 
tered from their heathen brethren and subjected to none but , 
Christian influences. In these communities he hoped to 
train up native missionaries who might thence go and labour 
among the wild tribes until the whole lump of barbarism 
should be leavened. In pursuance of this scheme a stock- 
aded village was built at Natick in 165 1. Under the direc- 
tion of an English carpenter the Indians built log-houses for 
themselves, and most of them adopted the English dress. 
Their simple government was administered by tithing-mcn, 
or " rulers of tens," chosen after methods prescribed in the 
book of Exodus. Other such communities were formed in 
the neighbourhoods of Concord and (Jrafton. Hy 1674 the 
number of these "praying Indians," as they were called, was 
estimated at 4000, of whom about i 500 were in I^liot's vil- 
lages, as many more in Martha's Vineyard, 300 in Nan- 
tucket, and 700 in the Plymouth colony. There seems to 
be no doubt that these Indians were really benefited both 
materially and morally by tin- chani^e in their life. In the- 
ology it is not likely tliat they rcathed any higher view than 
that expressed by tlu' ( 'oimecticMit sachem Wequash, who 
"seeing and bcholdin;^ the nii^lity power of (lod in the 
English forces, how they fell upon the Pequots, . . . from 
that time was convinced and persuaded that our God was a 
most dreadful God ; " accordingly, says the author of " New 
England's Eirst Eruits," "he became thoroughly reformed 



234 THK BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

according to his light." Matters of outward observance, too, 
the Indians could understand ; for we read of one of them 
rebuking an Englishman *' for profaning the Lord's Day by 
felling of a tree." The Indian's notions of religion were 
probably confined within this narrow compass ; the notions 
of some i)eople that call themselves civilized perhaps do not 
extend much further. 

From such facts as those above cited we may infer that 
the early relations of the Puritan settlers to the Algonquin 
tribes of New England were by no means like the relations 
between white men and red men in recent times on our 
western plains. During Philip's War, as we shall see, the 
Puritan theory of the situation was entirely changed and our 
forefathers began to act in accordance with the frontiers- 
man's doctrine that the good Indians are dead Indians. But 
down to that time it is clear that his intention was to deal 
honourably and gently with his tawny neighbour. We some- 
times hear the justice and kindness of the Quakers in Penn- 
sylvania alleged as an adec[uate reason for the success with 
which they kept clear of an Indian war. This explanation, 
however, does not seem to be adequate ; it does not appear 
that* on the whole, the Puritans were less just and kind than 
the Quakers in their treatment of the red men. The true 
explanation is rather to be found in the relations between 
the Indian tribes toward the close of the seventeenth cen- 
tury. Earlv in that centurv the Pennsvlvania region had 

been in the hands of the fen )cit)us and powerful 
^yivania"" Susquehaunocks, but in 1672, after a frightful 
mnuoir!it"?i ^^trugglc of tweuty years, this great tribe was swept 
i)\ tiK- In- from the face of the earth bv the resistless league 

of the I'ive Nations. When the ( Hiakers came to 
Pennsvlvania in i6«S2, the onlv Indians in that neighbourhood 
were the Ijelawares, who had just been terribly beaten by 
the Five Nations and forced into a treaty by which they 
submitted to be called ** women," and to surrender their 
tomahawks. Penn's famous treaty was made with the Dela- 
wares as occu|)ants of the land and also with the Iroquois 



KING THILIP'S WAR 



235 



league as overlords.' Now the great central fact of early 
American history, so far as the relations between white men 
and retl men are concerned, is the unshaken friendship of 
the Iroquois for the English. This was the natural conse- 
quence of the deadly hostility between the Iroquois and the 
French which began with Champlain's defeat of the Mo- 
hawks in 1609. During the seventy-three years which inter- 
vened between the founding of Penn.sylvania and the defeat ' 
of Hraddock there was never a moment when the Delawares 
could have attacked the Quakers without incurring the wrath 
and vengeance of their overlords the Five Nations. This 
was the reason why Pennsylvania was left so long in quiet. 
No better proof could be desired than the fact that in Fon- 
tiac's war, after the overthrow of the French and when 
Indian poHtics had 
changed, no state suf- 
fered so much as Penn- 
sylvania from the hor- 
rors of Indian warfare. 
In New Fngland at 
the time of Philips War, 
the situation was very 
different from what it 
was between the Hud- 
son and the Susquehan- 
na. The .settlers were 
thrown into immediate 
relations with several 
tribeswhose mutual hos- 
tility and rivalrj' was 
such that it was simply 

impossible to keep on good terms with all at once. Such 
complicated questions as that which involved the English in 
responsibility for the fate of Miaittonomo did not arise in 
Pennsylvania. Since the destruction of the Fequots we have 
observed the Narragansetts and Mohegans contending for 
' See Parkinan. Conspiracy of Potitiai, i. 80-85. 




236 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

the foremost place among New England tribes. Of the two 
rivals the Mohegans were the weaker, and therefore courted 
the friendship of the formidable palefaces. The English had 
_.^ , no desire to take part in these barbarous feuds, but 

Difnculty * 

of the situ- they could not treat the Mohegans well without in- 
Nellf'Eng- curring the hostility of the Narragansetts. For 
^^^ thirty years the feeling of the latter tribe toward 

the English had been very unfriendly and would doubtless 
have vented itself in murder but for their recollection of the 
fate of the Pequots. After the loss of their chief Mianto- 
nomo their attitude became so sullen and defiant that the 
Federal Commissioners, in order to be in readiness for an 
outbreak, collected a force of 300 men. At the first news 
of these preparations the Narragansetts, overcome with ter- 
ror, sent a liberal tribute of wampum to Boston, and were 
fain to conclude a treaty in which they promised to behave 
themselves well in the future. 

It was impossible that this sort of English protectorate 
over the native tribes, which was an inevitable result of the 
situation, should be other than irksome and irritating to 
the Indians. They could not but see that the white man 
stood there as master, and even in the absence of provoca- 
tion, this fact alone must have made them hate him. It is 
difficult, moreover, for the civilized man and the savage to 
understand each other. As a rule the one does not know 
what the other is thinkin^,^ about. When Mr. Hamilton 
Gushing a few years a<;o took some of his Zufti friends into 
a hotel in Chicai:!:o, thev marvelled at his enterine: 
fi.r the s;iv- such a mi^^lity palace with so little ceremony, and 
ciViHze.i '^ their wonder was heightened at the promptness 
(UMst;m(i'" ^^'^^^ which "slaves" came running at his beck and 
OIK' an- ciiii ; ])ut all at oucc, on seeing an American easrle 

other r 

over one of the doorways, they felt that the mys- 
tery was solved. ICvidently this jxdace was the communal 
dwelling of the ICagle Clan of palefaces, and evidently Mr. 
Cushing was a great sachem of this clan, and as such enti- 
tled to lordly sway there! The Zuflis are not savages, but 




> 



L (&J 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 237 

representatives of a remote and primitive phase of what Mr. 
Morgan calls the middle status of barbarism. The gulf 
between their thinking and that of white men is wide be- 
cause there is a wide gulf between the experience of the 
two. 

7^his illustration may help us to understand an instance 
in which the Indians of New England must inevitably have 
misinterpreted the actions of the white settlers and read 
them in the light of their uneasy fears and prejudices. I 
refer to the work of the apostle Eliot. His design in 
founding his villages of Christian Indians was in the highest 
degree benevolent and noble ; but the heathen Indians 
could hardly be expected to see anything in it but a cunning • 
scheme for destroying them. Eliot's converts were for the 
most part from the Massachusetts tribe, the smallest and 
weakest of all. The Plymouth converts came chiefly from 
the tribe next in weakness, the Pokanokets or Wampanoags. 
The more powerful tribes — Narragansetts, Xipmucks, and 
Mohegans — furnished very few converts. When they saw 
the white intruders gathering members of the weaker tribes 
into villages of English type, and teaching them strange 
gods while clothing them in strange garments, they prob- 
ably supposed that the palefaces were simply . 
adoj)ting these Indians into their white tribe as a signs mis- 

r • • «.i- • -i-*. 4. ^u A i. understood 

means of increasmg their military strength. At 
any rate, such a proceeding would be perfectly intelligible 
to the savage mind, whereas the nature of I^liot's design 
lay quite beyond its ken. As the Indians recovered from 
their supernatural dread of the English, and began to regard 
them as using human means to accomplish their ends, they 
must of course interpret their conduct in such light as sav- 
age experience could afford. It is one of the commonest 
things in the world for a savage tribe to absorb weak neigh- 
bours by adoption, and thus increase its force preparatory 
to a deadly assault upon other neighbours. When Eliot in 
1657 preached to the little tribe of Podunks near Hartford, 
and asked them if they were willing to accept of Jesus 



238 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Christ as their saviour, their old men scornfully answered 
No ! they had parted with most of their land, but they were 
not going to become the white man's servants. A rebuke 
administered to. Eliot by Uncas in 1674 has a similar im- 
plication. When the jipostle was preaching one evening 
in a village over which that sachem claimed jurisdiction, an 
Indian arose and announced himself as a deputy of Uncas. 
Then he said, ** Uncas is not well pleased that the English 
should pass over Mohegan river to call his Indians to pray 
to (jod." * 

Thus, no matter how benevolent the white man's inten- 
tions, he could not fail to be dreaded by the Indians as a 
powerful and ever encroaching enemy. Even in his efforts 
It is re- to kccp thc pcacc aud prevent tribes from* taking 
ih^t'^pcice ^^^ war-path without his permission, he was inter- 
shouid ferine with the red man's cherished pastime of 

have been " * 

so lonK murder and pillage. The appeals to the court at 
preserve Plymouth, the frequent summoning of sachems to 
Boston, to explain their affairsand justify themselves against 
accusers, must have been maddening in their effects upyon 
the Indian ; for there is one sound instinct which the savage 
has in common with the most progressive races, and that is 
the love of self-government tliat resents all outside interfer- 
ence. All things considered, it is remarkable that peace 
should have been maintained in New luigland from 1637 to 
1675 ; and probably nothing short of the consuming ven- 
geance wrought upon the Pccjuots could have done it. But 
with the lapse of time the wholesome feeling of dread began 
to fade away, and as the Indians came to use musket instead 
of bow and arrow, their fear of the ICnglish grew less, until 
at length their fcroci<Kis temper broke forth in an epidemic 
of fire iind slauLfhtcr that laid waste the land. 

Massasoit. chief sachem of the \\'anij)anoags and stead- 
fast ally of the riynioutli colonists, died in 1660, leaving two 
sons, Wanisutta and Metaconi, or as the ICnglish nicknamed 
them, Alexander and Philip. Alexander succeeded to his 

^ I)c Fr)rcst, History of tiie Indiana of Conut'cticut, pj). 252, 257. 



240 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

father's position of savage dignity and influence, but his 
Deaths of reign was brief. Rumours came to Plymouth that 
and^Afex- ^^ ^^^ plotting mischief, and he was accordingly 
ander summoncd to apijear before the General Court of 

that colony and explain himself. He seems to have gone 
reluctantly, but he succeeded in satisfying the magistrates 
of his innocence of any evil designs. Whether he caught 
cold at Plymouth, or drank rum as only Indians can, we do 
not know. At any rate, on starting homeward, before he 
had got clear of English territory, he was seized by a vio- 
lent fever and died. The savage mind knows nothing of 
pneumonia or delirium " /)'/^ jp ^ 

tremens. It knows ^y^^^^^^ ^^.^^ 
nothing of what we ^ ^j P^^^ 

call natural death. To m 

the savage all death ^^^^c; philu's mark 

means murder, for like other men he judges of the unknown 
by the known. In the Indian's experience normal death was 
by tomahawk or firebrand ; abnormal death (such as we call 
natural) must come cither from poison or from witchcraft. 
So when the honest chronicler Hubbard tells us that Philip 
suspected the Plymouth people of poisoning his brother, we 
can easily believe him. It was long, however, before he 
was ready to taste the sweets of revenge. He schemed 
and plotted in the dark. 

In one respect the Indian diplomatist is unlike his white 
Philip's brethren ; he does not leave state-papers behind 
designs i^in^ to reward the diligence and gratify the cu- 
riosity of later generations ; and accordingly it is hard to 
tell how far Philip was personally responsible for the storm 
which was presently to burst upon New England. Whether 
his scheme was as comprehensive as that of Pontiac in 1763, 
whether or not it amounted to a deliberate combination of 
all red men within reach to exterminate the white men, one 
can hardly say with confidence. The figure of Philip, in 
the war which bears his name, does not stand out so promi- 
nently as the figure of Pontiac in the later struggle. This 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 241 

may be partly because Pontiac's story has been told by such 
a magician as Mr. Francis Parkman. But it is partly be- 
cause the data are too meagre. In all probability, how- 
ever, the schemes of Sassacus the Pequot, of Philip the 
Wampanoag, and of Pontiac the Ottawa, were substantially 
the same. That Philip plotted with the Narragansetts 
seems certain, and the early events of the war point clearly 
to a previous understanding with the Nipmucks. The Mo- 
hegans, on the other hand, gave him no assistance, but 
remained faithful to their white allies. 

P\)r thirteen years had Philip been chief sachem of his 
tribe before the crisis came. Rumours of his unfriendly 
disposition had at intervals found their way to the ears of 
the magistrates at Plymouth, but Philip had succeeded in 
setting himself right before them. In 1670 the rumours 
were renewed, and the Plymouth men felt that it was time 
to strike, but the other colonies held them back, and a 
meeting was arranged between Philip and three Hoston men 
at Taunton in April, 167 1. There the crafty Meeting at 
barbarian expressed humility and contrition for all Taunton 
past offences, and even consented to a treaty in which he 
promised that his tribe should surrender all their firearms. 
On the part of the English this was an extremely unwise 
measure, for while it could not possibly be enforced, and 
while it must have greatly increased the irritation of the 
Indians, it was at the same time interpretable as a symptom 
of fear. With ominous scowls and grunts some seventy 
muskets were given up, but this was all. Through the 
summer there was much uneasiness, and in September 
Philip was summoned to Plymouth with five of his under- 
sachems, and solemnly warned to keep the peace. The 
savages again behaved with humility and agreed to pay a 
yearly tribute of five wolves' heads and to do no act of war 
without express permission. 

For three years things .seemed quiet, until late in 1674 the 
alarm was again sounded. Sausamon, a convert from the 
Massachusetts tribe, had studied a little at Harwird College, * 



242 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

and could speak and write English with facility. He had at 
one time been employed by Philip as a sort of private secre- 
tary or messenger, and at other times had preached and 
taught school among the Indian converts at Natick. Sausa- 
mon now came to Plymouth and informed Governor Winslow 
that Philip was certainly engaged in a conspiracy that boded 
no good to the English. Somehow or other Philip contrived 
to find out what Sausamon had said, and presently coming 
to Plymouth loudly asseverated his innocence ; but the 
magistrates warned him that if they heard any more of this 
sort of thing his arms would surely be seized. A few days 
Murder of after Philip had gone home, Sausamon's hat and 
Sausamon g^^ were secu lying on the frozen surface of 
Assowamsett Pond, near Middleborough, and on cutting 
through the ice his body was found with unmistakable 
marks of beating and strangling. After some months the 
crime was traced to three Wampanoags, who were forth- 
with arrested, tried by a mixed jury of Indians and white 
men, found guilty, and put to death. On the way to the 
gallows one of them confessed that he had stood by while 
his two friends had pounded and choked the unfortunate 
Sausamon. 

More alarming reports now came from Swanzey, a pretty 
village of some forty houses not far from Philip's headquar- 
ters at Mount Hope. On Sunday, June 20, while everybody 
was at church, a party of Indians had stolen into the town 
and set fire to two houses. Messengers were hurried from 
Plymouth and from Boston, to demand the culprits under 
penalty of instant war. As they api:)roached Swanzey the 

Massacres ^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ Bostou saw a sjght that filled them 
at swaii/.cy with horror. The road was strewn with corpses of 
m.mth. men, women, and children, scorched, dismembered, 
June, id;:, ,^^^| j^-^.^^-^orjed with that devilish art of which the 
American Indian is the finished master. The savages had 
sacked the village the day before, burning the houses and 
slaying the people. Within three days a small force of 
colonial troops had driven Philip from his position at Mount 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 243 

Hope ; but while they were doing this a party of savages 
swooped upon Dartmouth, burning thirty houses and com- 
mitting fearful atrocities. Some of their victims were flayed 
alive, or impaled on sharp stakes, or roasted over slow fires. 
Similar horrors were wrought at Middleborough and Taun- 
ton ; and now the misery spread to Massachusetts, where 
on the 14th of July the town of Mendon was attacked by a 
party of Nipmucks. 

At that time the beautiful highlands between Lancaster 
and the Connecticut river were still an untrodden wilderness. 
On their southern slope Worcester and Brookfield were tiny 
hamlets of a dozen houses each. Up the Connecticut valley 

^-, a line of little vil- 

O^yv^^^"^ ^^-MSi-^^v;^ 1^^'^^^' ^^^"^ Spring. 

^ field to Northfield, 

formed the remotest frontier of the ICnglish, and their exposed 
position offered tempting opportunities to the Indians. Gov- 
ernor' Leverett saw how great the danger would be if the 
other tribes should follow the example set by Philip, and 
Captain Edward Hutchinson was accordingly sent Murder of 
tf) Brookfield to negotiate with the Nipmucks. J^i'UJchin- 
This officer was eldest son of the unfortunate lady ^^'^ 
whose preaching in Boston nearly forty years before had 
been the occasion of so much strife. Not only his mother, 
but all save one or two of his brothers and sisters — and 
there were not less than twelve of them — had been mur- 
dered by Indians on the New Netherland border in 1643 ; 
now the same cruel fate overtook the gallant captain. The 
savages agreed to hold a parley and appointed a time and 
place for the purpose, but instead of keeping tryst they lay 
in ambush and slew Hutchinson with eight of his men on 
their way to the conference. 

Three days afterward Philip, who had found home too hot 
for him, arrived in the Nipmuck country, and on the night of 
August 2 took part in a fierce assault on Brookfield. Attack on 
Thirty or forty men, with .some fifty women and Brookfield 
children, — all the inhabitants of the hamlet, — took refuge 



244 THK IJEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

in a large house, where they were besieged by 300 savages, 
whose bullets pierced the wooden walls again and again. 
Arrows lipped with burning rags were shot into the air in 
such wise as to fall upon the roof, but they who crouched in 
the garret were watchful and well supplied with water, while 
from the overhanging windows the volleys of musketry were 
so brisk and steady that the yelping fiends below could not 
get near enough to the house to set it on fire. Vor three 
days the light was kept up, while every other house in the 
village was destroyed. By ^ ^ ^ 

this time the Indians had ^t^^KlPll ^ilfoti,/^^ 

contrived to mount stmie 

planks on barrels so as to make a kind of rude cart wliich 
they loaded with tow and chij)s. They were just about set- 
ting it on fire and preparing to push it against the house 
with long j)oles, when thev were sucKlenly foiled by a heavy 
shower. 'J'hat noon the g;tllant Simon W'illard, ancestor of 
two ])residents of Harvard College, a man who had done so 
much toward building u]) Concord and Lancaster that he 
was known as the ** founder of towns." was on his way from 
Lancaster to Groton at the head of forty-seven horsemen, 
when he was overtaken by a courier with the news from 
I^rookfield. The distance was thirty miles, the road scarcely 
fit to be called a bridle-j-jath, and W'illard's years were more 
than threescore-and-ten : but by an hour alter sunset he had 
galloped into Hrockfield and routed the Indians, who fled to 
a swam]) ten miles distant. 

The scene is now shifted to the Connecticut vallev, where 
on the J5th of August Captain Lothroj) defeated the sav- 
ages at Ilatlield. On the \s\ of September simultaneous 
attacks were made nynm Deerfield and Iladley, and anumg 
the traditions of the latter place is one of the most intere.st- 
ini;- of the stories x^i that earlv time. 'J'he inhabitants were 
'Jiuniv.- all in church kee])ing a fast, when the yells of the 
stMn!:^! .It Lidians resounded. Seizing their guns, the men 
M.i.ii.\ nislu'd out to meet tlu' foe; but seeing the village 

green swarming on every side with the horrid .savages, for 



The mysterious visitor at Hadley. 



9 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 245 

a moment their courage gave way and a panic was immi- 
nent ; when all at once a stranger of reverend aspect and 
stately form, with white beard flowing on his bosom, ap- 
peared among them and took command with an air of au- 
thority which none could gainsay. He bade them charge 
on the screeching rabble, and after a short sharp skirmish 
the tawny foe was put to flight. When the pursuers came 
together again, after the excitement of the rout, their deliv- 
erer was not to be found. In their wonder, as they knew 
not whence he came or whither he had gone, many were 
heard to say that an angel had been sent from heaven for 
their deliverance. It was the regicide William Goffe, who 
from his hiding-place had seen the savages stealing down 
the hillside, and sallied forth to win yet one more victory 
over the hosts of Midian ere death should come to claim him 
in his woodland retreat. Sir Walter Scott has put this 
pretty story into the mouth of Major Hridgenorth in " Pev- 
eril of the Peak," and Cooper has made use of it in " The 
W^ept of Wish-ton-wish." Like many other romantic stories, 
it rests upon insufficient authority, and its truth has been 
called in question.^ Hut there seems to be nothing intrin- 

* The story rests chiefly upon the statements of Hutchinson, an 
extremely careful and judicious writer, and not in the least what the 
French call a gobcmoiiche. (ioffe kept a diary which came into 
Hutchinson's possession, and was one of the priceless manuscripts that 
perished in the infamous sacking of his house by the Boston mob of 
August 26, 1765. What light that diary might have thrown upon the 
matter can never be known. Hutchinson was born in 171 1, only thirty- 
six years after the event, so that his testimony is not so very far 
removed from that of a contemporary. Whalley seems to have died in 
Hadlcy .shortly before 1675, and (^offe deemed it prudent to leave that 
neighbourhood in 1676. His letters to Increase Mather are dated from 
"Ebenezer," i.e., wherever in his roamings he set up his Ebenezer. 
One of these letters, dated September 8, 1676. shows that his Ebenezer 
was then set up in Hartford, where probably he died about 1679. In 
1676 the arrival of Edward Randolph (see below, p. 284) renewed the 
peril of the regicide judge, and his sudden removal from his skilfully 
contrived hiding-place at Hadley might possibly have been due to his 
having exposed himself to recognition in the Indian fight. Possibly 



246 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

sically improbable in the tradition ; and a paramount regard 
for Goffe's personal safety would quite account for the stud- 
ied silence of contemporary writers like William Hubbard 
and Increase Mather. 

This repulse did not check for a moment the activity of 
the Indians, though for a long time we hear nothing more 
of Philip. On the 2d of September they slew eight men at 
Northtield and on the 
4th they surrounded ^^ ^ j ^ ^ m^ 

and butchered Caj>- J/^OVUKi jf'^^^^^ ^ *^ 
tain Beers and most of V / 

his comjxmy lU" thirty- 
six marching ti^ the relief of that village. The next day but 
one, as Major Robert Treat came up the road with his 100 
Connecticut soKlicrs, they found long }X)les planted by the 
wayside bearing the lieads of their unfortunate comrades. 
They in turn were assaulted, but beat off the enemy, and 
brought away the people of Northfield. That village was 
, abandoned, and presentlv Deerfield shared its fate 
at \^\K^.<\^ and the ]:)eoplc were crowded into Hadley. Yet 
September worsc rcnianicd to be seen. A large quantity of 
**^ wheat had been left partly threshed at Deerfield, 

and on the iith of September eighteen wagons were sent 
up with teamsters and farmers to finish the threshing and 
bring in the grain. They were escorted by Captain Thomas 
Lothrop. with his train-band ^A ninety i»icked men, known as 
the ** Flower oi Essex," jxThaps the best drilled company in 
the ct>lonv. l^he threshing was done, the wagons were 
loaded, and the jxirty made a night march southward. At 
seven in the morninLf, as thev were fordinir a shallow stream 
in the shade of r)\erarchinir woi)ds, thev were suddenlv over- 

even the supernatural explanation mii^ht have iK^en started, with a 
touch of Yankee humour, as a Mind. The silence kA Mather and 
Hubbard was nr> n\ore remarkable than some of the other ingenious 
incidents which harl so loni^ served to conceal the existence of this 
sturdy and c rafty man. The reasons for doubtini:: the stor}' are best 
stated by Mr. George Sheldon, of Deerfield, in H istofic-Genealogical 
Rti^iitcr. October. 1S74. 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 247 

whelmed by the deadly fire of 700 ambushed Nipmucks, and 
only eight of them escaped to tell the tale. A " black and 
fatal " day was this, says the chronicler, ** the saddest that 
ever befell New England." To this day the memory of the 
slaughter at Bloody Brook survives, and the visitor to South 
Deerficld may read the inscription over the grave in which 
Major Treat's men next day buried all the victims together. 
The Indians now began to feel their power, and on the sth of 
October they attacked Springfield and burned thirty houses 
there. 

Things were becoming desperate. For ten weeks, from 
September 9 to November 19, the Federal Commissioners 
were in session daily in Boston. The most eminent of their 
number, for ability and character, was the younger John 
Winthrop, who was still governor of Connecticut. Plym- 
outh was represented by its governor, Josiah Winslow, with 







WU0^ 




248 THK HEC'.INNINGS OV NEW ENGLAND 

Thomas Hinckley ; Massachusetts by William Stoughton 
and Thomas Danforth. These strong men were confronted 
with a (lifTiciilt problem. From Batten's journal, kept dur- 
ing that disastrous summer, we learn the state of feeling 
in l^oston. The Puritans had by no means ijot rid 
exciienunt i)f that scuse ot corjX)rate responsibility which 
civilized man has inherited from prehistoric ages, 
and which has been one of the j)rincipal causes of reli- 
gious persecution. This sombre feeling has prompted men 
to believe that to spare the heretic is to bring down the 
wrath of (ind upon the whole community; and now in, 
Hoston many i)eoplc stoutly maintained that God had let 
loose the savages, with firebrand and tomahawk, to punish 
the people of New ICngland for ceasing to jiersecute " false 
worshi])pers and especially idolatrous Ouakers.'* Quaker 
meetings were accordingly forbidden under penalty of fine 
and imj)risonment. Some harmless Indians were murdered. 
At Marblehead two weie assaulted and killed by a crowd of 
women. There was a 
bitter feeling toward th( 
Christian Indians, man; 
of whom had joined their 

heathen kinsmen in burning and slaying. Daniel Gookin, 
superintendent of the *' j)raying Indians," a gentleman of the 
highest character, was told tliat it would not be safe to show 
himself in the streets of Hoston. Mrs. Marv IVav, of Proxi- 
dence, wrote a letter recommending the t(»tal extermination 
of the red men. 

The measures adopted by the Commissioners certainly 
went far toward carrying out Mrs. Prays suggestion. The 
demeanour of the Xarrairansetts had become verv threat- 
euiiig, and their capacity for mischief exceeded that of all 
the other trilx's l(»L:elher. In lulv the Commissioners had 
madeatreatv \\\\h tlu-m. but in ( )ctol)er it l)e(\ime known in 

l^)^ton ihiit thev were harbonrimr some of Phili])*s hostile 

^ ill 

Indi.ins. Wlien the (.'oinmis.sioners sharply called them to 
account for thi^. their sachem Canonchet. son of Miantt)- 



a 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 249 

nomo, promised to surrender the fugitives within ten days. 
But the ten days passed and nothing was heard from the 
Narragansetts. The victory of their brethren at Bloody 
Brook had worked upon their minds, so that they no longer 




thought it worth while to keep faith with the white men. 
They had overcome their timidity and were now ready to 
lake part in the work of massacre.' The Commissioners 

' If Philip was half the diplomalist that he is represented in tradi- 
tion, he never would have gone into such a war without assurance of 
Narragansett help, Canonchet was a far more powerful sachem than 
Philip, and played a more conspicuous part in the war. May we not 



250 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

soon learned of their warlike preparations and lost no time 
in forestalling them. The Narragansetts were fairly warned 
that if they did not at once fulfil their promises they must 
expect the utmost severities of war. A thousand men were 
enlisted for this service and j)ut under command of Governor 
Winslow, and in December they marched against the enemy. 
The redoubtable fighter and lively chronicler, Benjamin 
Church, accompanied the expedition. 

The Indians had fortified themselves on a piece of rising 
Expedition grouud, six acrcs in extent, in the middle of a hide- 
?farragan-^ ous swauip impassablc at most seasons but now in 
^^^^'^ some places frozen hard enough to afford a pre- 

carious footing. They were surrounded by rows of tall pali- 
sades which formed a wall twelve feet in thickness ; and the 
only approach to the single door of this stronghold was over 
the trunk of a felled tree some two feet in diameter and 
slippery with snow and ice. A stout blockhouse filled with 
sharp-shooters guarded this rude bridge, which was raised 
some \\\'c feet from the ground. Within the palisadoed for- 
tress perhaps not less than 2000 waniors, with many women 
and children, awaited the o^iset of the white men, for here 
had Canonchet gathered together nearlv the whole of his 
available force. This was a military mistake. It was coop- 
ing up his men for slaughter. They would have been much 
safer if scattered about 
in the wilderness, and 
could have given th( 
English much more ^^-^ 
trouble. But readily as they acknowledged the power of 
the white man, they did not yet understand it. One man's 
courage is not another's, and the Indian knew little or 
nothing of that Gothic furv of self-abandonment which rushes 

siijipose that Canonchcl's desire to aveni^c his fathers death was one 
of the |>rinci])al incentives to the war: that IMiilip's attack upon Swan- 
zcv was a ])reniatuie explosion : and that Canonchet then watched the 
course of events for a while before making up his mind whether to 
abandon Philip or sui)port him? 



It n /I 



252 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Straight ahead and snatches victory from the jaws of death. 
His fortress was a strong one, and it was no longer, as in 
the time of the Pequots, a strife in which firearms were 
pitted against bow and arrow. Many of the Narragansetts 
were equipped with muskets and skilled in their use, and 
under such circumstances victory for the English was not to 
be lightly won. 

On the night of December i8 their little army slept in an 
open field at Pettyquamscott without other blanket than a 
" moist fleece of snow," while near them smoked the ruins 
of Jireh Bull's garrison house, which the Indians had burned 
a few days before. Thence to the swamp fortress the dis- 
tance was about seven miles as the crow flies, but no roads 
led thither. The morrow was 

a Sunday, but Winslow deemed ^ ^f A. ^-^ 

it imprudent to wait, as food *^ ^ JTi^^Jhfi*-' 

had wellnigh given out. Get- 
ting up at five o'clock, these kinsmen of Oliver's Ironsides 
toiled through deep snow, following the high ground in a 
dubious and wandering course which doubled the length of 
the march, so that it was past noon when they came within 
sight of the Narragansett stronghold. First came the 527 
men from Massachusetts, led by Major Samuel Appleton, of 
Ipswich, and next the 158 from Plymouth, under Major Wil- 
liam Bradford ; while Major Robert Treat, with the 300 from 
Connecticut, brought up the rear. There were 985 men in 
all. As the Massachusetts men rushed upon the slippery 
stormin bridge a deadly volley from the blockhouse slew six 
of the great of their captaius, while of the rank and file there 
tress, Do- wcrc many killed or wounded. Nothing daunted, 
r 19 ^j^^^^ pressed on with great spirit till they forced 
their way into the enclosure, but then the head of their col- 
umn, overcome by sheer weight of numbers in the hand-to- 
hand fight, was pushed and tumbled out into the swamp. 
Meanwhile some of the Connecticut men had discovered a 
path across the partly frozen swamp leading to a weak spot 
in the rear, where the palisades were thin and few, as undue 



KING PHILIPS WAK 253 

reliance had been placed upon the steep bank crowned with 
a thick rampart of bushes that had been reinlorced with 
clods of turf. In this direction Treat swept along with his 
men in a spirited charge. Before they had reached the spot 
a heavy fire began mowing them down, but with a furious 
rush they came up, and climbing on each others shoulders, 
some fought their way over the rampart, while others hacked 




sturdily with avcs till such a breach was made that all might 
enter. This was c-fTocte<l just as the Massachusetts men 
had recovered themselves and crossed the treacherous log 
in a second charge that was successful and soon brought 
the entire English force within the enclosure. In the 
slaughter which filled the rest of that Sunday afternoon till 
the sun went down behind a dull gray cloud, the grim and 
wrathful Puritan, as lie swung his heavy cutlass, thought of 
Saul and Agag, and spared not. The Lord had deii\-ered 
up to him the heathen as stubble to his sword. As usual 
the number of the slain is variously estimated. Of the In- 
dians probably not less than 1000 perished. Some hun- 
dreds, however, with Canonchet their leader, saved them- 
selves in flight, well screened by the blinding snowflakcs 
that began to fall just after sunset. Within the fortified 
area had been stored the greater part of the Indians' winter 
supply of corn, and the loss of this food was a further deadly 



254 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

blow. Captain Church advised sparing the wigwams and 
using them for shelter, but Winslow doubted the ability of 
his men to maintain themselves in a position so remote from 
all support. The wigwams with their tubs of corn were 
burned, and a retreat was ordered. Through snowdrifts 
that deepened every moment the weary soldiers dragged 
themselves along, probably over Rose and McSparran hills, 
and thence northward by the Pequot trail, until two hours 
after midnight, when they reached Smith's garrison house, 
near the hamlet of Wickford. Nearly one fourth of their 
number had been killed or wounded, and many of the latter 
perished before shelter was reached. Forty of these were 
buried at Wickford in the course of the next three days. 
Of the Connecticut men eighty were left upon the swamp 
and in the breach at the rear of the stronghold. Among 
the spoils which the victors brought away were a number of 
good muskets that had been captured by the Nipmucks in 
their assault upon Deerfield. 

This headlong overthrow of the Narragansett power 
completely changed the face of things. The question was 
no longer whether the red men could possibly succeed in 
making New England too hot for the white men, but simply 
how long it would take for the white men to exterminate the 
red men. The shiftless Indian was abandoning his squalid 
Effect of agriculture and subsisting on the pillage of English 
the blow farms; but the resources of the colonies, though 
severely taxed, were by no means exhausted. The dusky 
warriors slaughtered in the great swamp fight could not be 
replaced ; but, as Roger Williams told the Indians, there 
were still ten thousand white men who could carry muskets, 
and should all these be slain, he added, with a touch of 
hyperbole, the Great Father in England could send ten 
thousand more. For the moment Williams seems to have 
cherished a hope that his great influence with the savages 
might induce them to submit to terms of peace while there 
was yet a remnant to be saved ; but they were now as little 
inclined to parley as tigers brought to bay, nor was the 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 255 

temper of the colonists a whit less deadly, though it did not 
vent itself in inflicting torture or in merely wanton orgies 
of cruelty. 

To the modern these scenes of carnage are painful to 
contemplate. In the wholesale destruction of the Pequots, 
and to a less degree in that of the Narragansetts, the death- 
dealing power of the white man stands forth so terrible 
and relentless that our sympathy is for a moment called out 
for his victim. The feeling of tenderness toward the weak, 
almost unknown among savages, is one of the finest pro- 
ducts of civilization. Where murderous emotions are fre- 
quently excited, it cannot thrive. Such advance in humanity 
as we have made within recent times is chiefly due to the 
fact that the horrors of war are seldom brought home to 
everybody's door. Either war is conducted on ^ , , 

-^ ■' . Growth of 

some remote frontier, or if armies march through humane 
a densely peopled country the conditions of modern i*n"recent 
warfare have made it essential to their efficiency ^*"^^* 
as military instruments that depredation and riot should 
be as far as possible checked. Murder and pillage are 
comparatively infrequent, massacre is seldom heard of, and 
torture is almost as extinct as cannibalism. The mass of 
citizens escape physical suffering, the angry emotions are 
so directed upon impersonal objects as to acquire a strong 
ethical value, and the intervals of strife may find individual 
soldiers of hostile armies exchanging kindly services. Mem- 
bers of a complex industrial society, without direct experi- 
ence of warfare save in this mitigated form, have their char- 
acters wrought upon in a way that is distinctively modern, 
as they become more and more disinclined to violence and 
cruelty. European historians have noticed, with words of 
praise, the freedom from bloodt hirst iness which characterizes 
the American people. Mr. Lecky has more than once re- 
marked upon this humane temperament which is so charac- 
teristic of our peaceful civilization, and which sometimes, 
indeed, shows the defects of its excellence and tends to 
weaken society by making it difficult to inflict due punish- 



256 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

ment upon the vilest criminals. In respect of this humanity 
the American of the nineteenth century has without doubt 
improved very considerably upon his forefathers of the 
seventeenth. The England of Cromwell and Milton was 
not, indeed, a land of hard-hearted people as compared with 
their contemporaries. The long experience of internal peace 
since the great War of the Roses had not been without its 
effect ; and while the Tudor and Stuart periods had atroci- 
ties enough, we need only remember what was going on at 
the same time in France and Germany in order to realize 
how much worse it might have been. In England, as else- 
where, however, it was, when looked at with our eyes, a 
rough and brutal time. It was a day of dungeons, whip- 
ping-posts, and thumbscrews, when slight offenders were 
maimed and bruised and great offenders cut into pieces 
by sentence of court. The pioneers of New England had 
grown up familiar with such things ; and among the towns- 
people of Boston and Hartford in 1675 were still many who 
in youth had listened to the awful news from Magdeburg or 
turned pale over the horrors in Piedmont upon which Milton 
invoked the wrath of Heaven. 

When civilized men are removed from the safeguards of 
civilization and placed in the wilderness amid the hideous 
dangers that beset human existence in a savage state of 
society, whatever barbarism lies latent in them is likely to 
find many opportunities for showing itself. The feelings 
that stir the meekest of men, as he stands among 

WiriJirc 

with sav- the smouldering embers of his homestead and gazes 
to U:^truc- ^^P^ri the mangled bodies of wife and children, are 
uient in feelino:s that he shares with the most bloodthirsty 

character ^ , -^ 

savage, and the primar}^ effect of his higher intelli- 
gence and greater sensitiveness is only to increase their 
bitterness. The neighbour who hears the dreadful story 
is quick to feel likewise, for the same thing may happen to 
him, and there is nothing so pitiless as fear. With the 
Puritans such gloomy and savage passions seemed to find 
justification in the sacred text from which he drew his rules 



m 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 257 

of life. To suppose that one part of the Bible could be less 
authoritative than another would have been to him an incom- 
prehensible heresy ; and bound between the same covers 
that included the Sermon on the Mount were tales of whole- 
sale massacre perpetrated by God's command. Kvidently 
the red men were not stray children of Israel, after all, but 
rather Philistines, Canaanites, heathen, sons of Belial, fire- 
brands of hell, demons whom it was no more than right to 
sweep from the face of the earth. Writing in this .spirit,, 
the chroniclers of the time were completely callous in their 
accounts of suffering and ruin inflicted upon Indians, and, as 

has elsewhere been known to 

XA,^'"'^'^ J -t/v/ ^s their own persons were more 
truculent in tone than the professional fighters. Of the 
narrators of the war, perhaps the fairest toward the Indian 
is the doughty Captain Church, while none is more bitter 
and cynical than the Ipswich pastor, William Hubbard. 

While the overthrow of the Narragansetts changed the 
face of things, it was far from putting an end to the war. 
It showed that when the white man could find his enemy he 
could deal crushing blows, but the Indian was not always 
so easy to find. Ik'fore the end of January, Winslow's little 
army was |)artially disbanded for want of food, and its three 
contingents fell back upt)n Stonington, Boston, and Plymouth. 
Pearly in I^'ebruary the P'ederal Commissioners called for a 
new levy of (yoo men to assemble at Brookfield, for the Nip- 
mucks were beginning to renew their incursions, and after 
an interval of six months the figure of Philip again appears 
for a moment upon the scene. What he had been doing, or 
where he had been, since the Brookfield fight in August, 
was never known. When in P^ebruary, 1676, he reappeared 
it was still in company with his allies the Xipmucks, attack 
in their bloody assault u|X)n Lancaster. On the ^^^^^^^^^^ 
loth of that month at sunrise the Indians came February 
swarming into the pretty village. Danger had al- 
ready been apprehended, the pastor, Joseph Rowlandson, the 



258 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

only Har\'ard graduate of 1652, had gone to Boston to solicit 
aid, and Captain Wadsworth's company was slowly making 
its way over the difficult roads from Marlborough, but the 
Indians were beforehand. Several houses were at once sur- 
rounded and set on fire, and men, women, and children be- 
gan falling under the tomahawk. The minister's house was 
large and strongly built, and more than forty people found 
shelter there until at length it took fire and they were driven 
out by the flames. Only one escaped, a dozen or more were 
slain, and the rest, chiefly women and children, taken cap- 
tive. The Indians aimed at plunder as well as destruction ; 
for they were in sore need of food and blankets, as well as of 
|)owder and ball. Presently, as they saw Wadsworth's armed 
men approaching, they took to flight and got away, with many 
prisoners and a goodly store of provisions. 

Among the captives was Mary Rowlandson, the minister's 
wife, who afterward wrote the story of her sad experiences. 
The treatment of the prisoners varied with the caprice or the 
cupidity of the captors. Those for whom a substantial ran- 
som might be expected fared comparatively well ; to others 
death came as a welcome relief. One poor woman with a 
child in her arms was too weak to endure the arduous tramp 
over the icy hillsides, and begged to be left behind, till pre- 
sently the .savages l<xst their patience. They built a fire, 
„ ,. and after a kind of demon dance killed mother and 

Mrs. Kow- 

i;imiv>ifs child with a club and threw the bodies into the 

nurrativc .. c i • n 

ilames. Such treatment UKiy seem e.\cej)tionalIy 
merciful, but those modern observers who best know the 
Indian's habits say that he seldom indulges in torture except 
when he has abundance ot" leisure and a mind quite undis- 
turbed. He is an epicure in human ag<>ny and likes to en- 
joy it in Ioul;" ^low sips. It is for the end of the march that 
the accumulation of horrors is reserved ; the victims bv the 
wav are usu.ilh" (K->|).itched cinicklv ; and in the case of Mrs. 
kowlandson's c.iptdrs their irre;;ular and circuitous march 
indicates that thry were on the alert. Their movements 
seem to have covered much of the ground between Wachu- 



•^m 



^^mt 



A 






B R I E F HISTORY 

O F T H E 





•%t»- 





With (he / jy;,© J / J\(^J in 

NEW-ENGLAND. 

(From ^tifie7^, 1675. \v!;cn tlicliirt l'.ngliilvmnn\\\:s mur- 
dered by the Indians, to /fr\i:.'fl 12. i6;6. when PuHp, a!l.is 

Afct^icomttj the priiicipal Author and Crfginncr f 

j ofchcWjrr, wasfljin.; 

! \VIiercintIicGro'jnd<, Beginning, ami Pio^rcfsohhc \V:.ii, 
I is Inmmraily cxprcllcd, 

I TOGf:rHtR WITH A SHRIOUS 

(EXHORTATION 

to:':-? Inhabitams of that Land, 



By INCREASE MATHEE, TeJchcrof a Church of 

Chrill, in Bojion in NiW^'Ek^LuJ. 

SfUniiis irrirar.t sniraos (Iciniffj pcranrcs, 
i^ujm qui: fu'i: oculU co:7imifri ft^lelibus.* f2jr-tr. 

Lege liiftonimr.efiaiHidoriJ. Tif. 

E O S T O N^ Printed and Sold by fukn Fofter over ^ 
againft the Sign of the Dwt, 1676. 



*m 



-k«IW 



MM^ta 



• A T R U E ■ r 

HISTORT 





O F T H E 





i^ OF ■/ 

^ Mrs. MART ROTf^LANDSON. 

*2» A Miniftcr's Wife in Nexp-EnghnJ. 

Wherein is fee fonh. The Cruel and Inhuroahe 
^ Ufage (he underwent amongft the HeatJiens^ for 
Eleven Weeks time : And her Deliverance from 
them. 

^» Written ly her own Haiid^ fry her Private Vfi t AninvmrnaJe 
1^ Pulliclc attheeartieft DeJIre of feme Friends^ for tbeEen^t 
^ (,{ the Amflvrf 

4gg : 

VjI Whcrcunto is .mncjV., 

l^ij A Sermon of the PoffibHity c- 0:d\< Fcrf:t{ingig Peo- 
*^'* pie that have been ?ii\ ' .t.-./ c^err, /c 'v'w. 







^:} lL?Ki;^I.M.^:rs..:i:,:. 






^6'.' \\y iLil ::in at Xer.r.r>i:.n: : Av^^ R.'\r:vi:<{ r^.r /../•.>/, ard fold gj 
^r---. bv ■;■ M A-'.'V, at the /^'.-.r B'.ttI h ' j-.c 7. ■ W •.£.'.'■, l- ■ c'./iyi;- K 



^6 




KING PHILIP'S WAR 261 

sett mountain and the Connecticut river. They knew that 
the white squaw of the great medicine man of an English 
village was worth a heavy ransom, and so they treated 
Mrs. Rowlandson unusually well. She had been captured 
when escaping from the burning house, carrying in her arms 
her little six-year-old daughter. She was stopped by a bul- 
let that grazed her side and struck the child. The Indian 
who seized them placed the little girl upon a horse, and as 
the dreary march began she kept moaning " I shall die, 
mamma." " I went on foot after it," says the mother, 
" with sorrow that cannot be expressed. At length I took 
it off the horse, and carried it in my arms till my strength 
failed me, and I fell down with it. . . . After this it quickly 
began to snow, and when night came on they stopped. And 
now down I must sit in the snow, by a little fire, and a few 
boughs behind me, with my sick child in my lap, and calling 
much for water, being now, through the wound, fallen into 
a violent fever. . . . Oh, may I see the wonderful power of 
God that my spirit did not utterly sink under my affliction ; 
still the Lord upheld me with his gracious and merciful 
spirit." The little girl soon died. For three months the 
weary and heartbroken mother was led about the country by 
these loathsome savages, of whose habits and manners she 
gives a vivid description. At first their omnivorousness 
astonished her. " Skunks and rattlesnakes, yea the very 
bark of trees "they esteemed as delicacies. " They would 
pick up old bones and cut them in pieces at the joints, . . . 
then boil them and drink up the liquor, and then beat the 
great ends of them in a mortar and so eat them.** After 
some weeks of starvation Mrs. Rowland.son herself was fain 
to partake of such viands. One day, having made a cap for 
one of Philip's boys, she was invited to dine with the great 
sachem. " I went," she says, " and he gave me a pancake 
about as big as two fingers. It was made of parched 
wheat, beaten, and fried in bear's grease ; but I thought I 
never tasted pleasanter meat in my life.'* Early in May she 
was redeemed for ;^20, and went to find her husband in 



262 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Boston, where the Old South Church society hired a house 
for them. 

Such was the experience of a captive whose treatment 
was, according to Indian notions, hospitable. There were 
few who came off so well. Almost every week while she 
'was led hither and thither by the savages, Mrs. Rowlandson 
heard ghastly tales of fire and slaughter. It was a busy 
winter and spring for these Nipmucks. Before February 
was over, their exploit at Lancaster was followed by a 
shocking massacre at Medfield. They sacked and destroyed 
the towns of Worcester, Marlborough, Mendon, and Groton, 
and even burned some houses in Weymouth, within a dozen 
miles of Boston. Murderous attacks were made upon Sud- 
bury, Chelmsford, Springfield, Hatfield, Hadlcy, North- 
ampton, Wrentham, Andover, Bridgewater, Scituate, and 
Middleborough. On the i8th of April Captain Samuel 
Virtual Wadsworth, with 70 men, was drawn into an 
extcrmina- ambush ucar Sudbury, surrounded by 500 Nip- 
indians, mucks, and killed with 50 of his men ; six unfor- 
August^ tunate captives were burned alive over slow fires. 
*^'^ But Wadsworth's party made the enemy pay dearly 

for his victory; that afternoon 120 Nipmucks bit the dust. 
In such wise, by killing two or three for one, did the English 
wear out and annihilate their adversaries. Just one month 
from that day Captain William 
Turner^ surprised and slaugh- 
tered 300 of these warriors 
near the falls of the Connecti- 
cut river which have since borne his name, and this blow at 
last broke the strength of the Nipmucks. 

Meanwhile the Narragansetts and Wamjxmoags had burned 
the towns of Warwick and Providence. After the wholesale 
ruin of the great "swamp fight," Canonchet had still some 
600 or 700 warriors left, and with these, on the 26th of 

^ Turner was a Baptist who had l)oen banished in 166S. His return 
and appointment to a position of trust is a good ilkistration of the fitful- 
ness with wliich persecution was carried on. 



/fi^ 




KING PHILIP»S WAR 263 



Aifm 3^ 



Slarch, in the neighbourhood of Pawtuxet, he surprised a 
company of 50 Plymouth men under Captain Michael Peirce, 

and slew them all, but not until 
he had lost 140 of his best war- 
. ^ , ^ riors. Ten days later Captain 

^ George Denison, with his Con- 

necticut company, defeated and captured Canonchet, and the 
proud son of Miantonomo met the same fate as his father. 
He was handed over to the Mohcgans and toma- Death of 
hawked. The Narragansett sachem had shown ^^nonchet 
such bravery that it seemed, says the chronicler Hubbard, 
as if "some old Roman ghost had possessed the body of this 
westeni pagan." But next moment this pious clergyman, as 
if ashamed of the classical eulogy just bestowed upon the 
hated redskin, alludes to him as a "damned wretch." 

The fall of Canonchet marked the beginning of the end. 
In four sharp fights in the last week of June, Major John 
Talcott, of Hartford, slew from 3CH3 to 400 warriors, being 
nearly all that were left of the Narragan setts ; and during 
the month of July Captain Church patrolled the country 
about Taunton, making prisoners of the Wampanoags. Once 
more King Philip, shorn of his prestige, comes upon the 
scene. We have seen that his agency in these cruel events 
had been at the outset a potent one. Whatever else it may 
have been, it was at 

least the agency of the ^^ ^^ ^J^^ 

match that explodes the 
powder-cask. Under 
the conditions of that savage society, organized leadership 
was not to be looked for. In the irregular and disorderly 
series of murdering raids Philip may have been often pre- 
sent, but except for Mrs. Rowlandson's narrative we should 
have known nothing of him since the Brookfield fight. 

At length in July, 1676, having seen the last of his Nip- 
muck friends overwhelmed, the tattered chieftain showed 
himself near Bridgewater, with a handful of followers. In 
these his own hunting-grounds some of his former friends 



:e^^» 




264 THK BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

had become disaffected. The daring and diplomatic Church 
had made his way into the wigwam of Ashawonks, the squaw 
sachem of Saconet, near Little Compton, and having first 
convinced her that a flask of brandy might be tasted without 
fatal results, followed up his advantage and persuaded her to 
make an alliance with the English. Many Indians came in 
and voluntarily surrendered themselves, in order to obtain 
favourable terms, and some lent their aid in destroying their 
old sachem. Defeated at Taunton, the son of Massasoit was 
hunted by Church to his ancient lair at Bristol Neck and 
there besieged. His only escape w^as over the narrow 
isthmus of which the pursuers now took possession, and in 
this dire extremity one of Philij^'s men presumed to advise 
his chief that the hour for surrender had come. For his 
unwelcome counsel the sachem forthwith lifted his toma- 
hawk and struck him dead at his feet. Then the brother of 
the slain man crept away through the bushes to Church's 
little camp, and offered to t^uide the white men to 

Death of * *^ 

Philip, the morass where I^hilip lay concealed. At day- 
, uguh I-. break of August 12 the English stealthily advan- 
cing beat up their j)rey. The savages in sudden panic 
rushed from under cover, and as the sachem showed him- 
self running at the top of his speed, a ball from an Indian 
musket pierced his heart, and "he fell upon his face in the 
mud and water, with his gun under him." His severed head 
was sent to Plymouth, where it was mounted on a pole 
and exposed aloft upon the village green, while the meeting- 
house bell summoned the townsj)eoplc to a special service of 
thanksgiving. 

It may be supposed that in such services at this time a 
Christian feeling of charity and forgiveness was not upper- 
most. Among the ca|)tivcs was a son of Philip, the little 
swarthy lad of nine years for whom Mrs. Rowlandson had 
made a cap, and the question as to what was to be done w^ith 
him occasioned as much debate as if he had been a Jesse 
I^omeroy^ or a Chicago anarchist. The mere fact of the 

^ A wretched little werewolf who some few years ago, bein^ then a 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 265 

discussion illustrates the increasing humanity of the age. 
The opinions of the clergy were, of course, eagerly sought 
and freely vouchsafed. One minister somewhat doubtfully 
urged that " although a precept in Deuteronomy explicitly 
forbids killing the child for the father's sin," yet after all 
"the children of Saul and Achan perished with their par- 
ents, though too young to have shared their guilt." Thus 
curiously did this ICnglish reverence for precedent, with a 
sort of grim conscientiousness colouring its gloomy wrath, 
search for guidance among the ancient records of the chil- 
dren of Israel. Commenting upon the truculent suggestion, 
Increase Mather, soon to be president of Harvard, observed 
that, "though David had spared the infant Iladad, yet it 
might have been better for his pe()|)le if he had been less 
merciful." These bloodthirsty counsels did not prevail, but 
the course that was adopted did not lack in harshness. 
Among the sachems a dozen leading spirits were 

111 ci * Indians 

hanged or shot, and hundreds of captives were m>1c1 into 
shipped off to the West Indies to be sold into 
slavery ; among these was Philip's little son. The rough 
soldier Church and the apostle ICliot were among the few 
who disapproved of this policy. Church feared it might 
goad such Indians as were still at large to acts of despera- 
tion. 1^1 iot, in an earnest letter to the PY^deral Commis- 

lad of fourteen or fifteen years, most cruelly murdered two or three 
young children, just to amuse himself with their dying agonies. The 
misdirected **humanitarianism," which in our country makes ever)' 
murderer an object of popular sympathy, prevailed to save this crea- 
ture from the gallows. Massachusetts has lately witnessed a similar 
instance of misplaced clemency in the case of a vile woman who had 
poisoned eight or ten persons, including some of her own children, in 
order to profit by their life insurance. Such instances help to explain 
the prolonged vitality of "Judge Lynch,** and sometimes almost make 
one regret the days in old England when William Prohert, after escap- 
ing in 1824 as "king's evidence," from the Thurtell affair, got caught 
and hanged within a twelvemonth for horse-stealing. Any one who 
wishes to study the results of allowing criminality to survive and propa- 
gate itself should read Dugdale's The Jukes ; Hereditary Crime^ New 
York, 1877. 



266 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

sioners, observed : " To sell souls for money seemeth to me 
dangerous merchandise." But the plan of exporting the 
captives was adhered to. As slaves they were understood 
to be of little or no value, and sometimes for want of pur- 
chasers they were set ashore on strange coasts and aban- 
doned. A few were carried to one of the foulest of mediae- 
val slave-marts, Morocco, where their fate was doubtless 
wretched enough. 

In spite of Church's doubts as to the wisdom of this harsh 
treatment, it did not prevent the beaten and starving savages 
from surrendering themselves in considerable numbers. To 
some the Federal Commissioners offered amnesty, and the 
promise was faithfully fulfilled. Among those who laid down 
arms in reliance upon it were 140 Christian Indians, with 
their leader known as James the Printer, because he had 
been employed at Cambridge in setting up the type for 
Eliot's Bible. Quite early in the war it had been discovered 
that these converted savages still felt the ties of blood to be 
stronger than those of creed. At the attack on Mendon, 
only three weeks after the horrors at Swanzey that ushered 
in the war, it was known that Christian Indians had behaved 

themselves quite as cruelly as their unregenerate 
of the brethren. Afterwards they made such a record 

Indians" ^^^^ ^^^ jokcrs and punsters of the day — for such 

there were, even among those sombre Puritans — 
in writing about the "Praying Indians," spelled /r<cz^/>/^ with 
an c. The moral scruples of these savages, under the influ- 
ence of their evangelical training, betrayed queer freaks. 
One of them, says Mrs. Row^landson, would rather die than 
eat horseflesh, so narrow and scrupulous was his conscience, 
although it was as wide as the whole infernal abyss, when it 
came to torturing white Christians. The student of history 
may have observed similar inconsistencies in the theories 
and conduct of people more enlightened than these poor red 
men. ** There was another Praying Indian," continues Mrs. 
Rowlandson, " who, when he had done all the mischief he 
could, betrayed his own father into the English's hands. 




Tht Wicifd mms Torlion. 



A SERMO 

f Pccacl":!! It the tt^nre in Ba/lta m NfwFn^UnJ it. 

i8th' 4ay of the » Moneih i674.wScriwomBn 

were ixttHted, who had munhned 

[heir Mjfkr.) 

Wherein is fticwril 

Thatexcejfein wic^e^inefi doth brin^ 
mtimeif Death. 



^INCXSASE MATHER. Teacher 
of 1 Church of Chrilt. 



PrOV. 10, a?. Tit fttr tflil. L*ri fttltntak Jni/, ht lit JUT J 

Eph.6. J. J, H-onMrihj FAihtr *hJ th Mtthr (niiiiMiitjl'/l 
Cimmtn^mint -with frtmi(r) ikmitrndj tllitlt wiik thtt, 

itnilhoum'yfl liviltng inthi E*rth. 

Pxnaidpjucos, mctut a4 oninef , 



n O S T O Nt 

Printed t>y Jtin Fepv, 1675 



268 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

thereby to purchase his own life; . . . and there was an- 
other ... so wicked ... as to wear a string about his 
neck, strung with Christian fingers." 

Such incidents help us to comprehend the exasperation 
of our forefathers in the days of King Philip. The month 
which witnessed his death saw also the end of the war in 
the southern parts of New Kngland ; but, almost before peo- 
ple had time to offer thanks for the victory, there came 
news of bloodshed on the northeastern frontier. The Tar- 
ratines in Maine had for some time been infected with the 
war fever. How far they may have been comprehended in 
the schemes of Philip and Canonchet, it would be hard to 
War say. They had attacked settlers on the site of 

Ta?ratines Kruuswick as early as September, 1675. About 
1676-78 the time of Philip's death, Major Richard Waldron 
of Dover had entrapped a party of them by an unworthy 
stratagem, and after satisfying himself that they were ac- 
complices in that chieftain's scheme, sent them to Boston 
to be sold into slavery. A terrible retribution was in store 
for Major Waldron thirteen years later. T^or the present 
the hideous strife, just ended in southern New Kngland, 
was continued on the northeastern frontier, and there was 
scarcely a village between the Kennebec and the Piscataqua 
but was laid in ashes. 

By midsummer of 1678 the Indians had been everywhere 
suppressed, and there was peace in the land. For three 
years, since Philip's massacre at Swanzey, there had been a 
reign of terror in New Kngland. Within the boundaries of 
Connecticut, indeed, little or no damage had been inflicted, 
and the troops of that colony, not needed on their own soil, 
did noble service in the common cause. 

In Massachusetts and Plymouth, on the other hand, the 
destruction of life and property had been simply frightful. 
Destruc ^^^ ninety towns, twelve had been utterly destroyed, 
tivencss of while morc than fortv others had been the scene of 
fire and slaughter. Out of this little society nearly 
a thousand staunch men, including not few of broad culture 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 269 

and strong promise, had lost their lives, while of the scores 
of fair women and poor little children that had perished un- 
der the ruthless tomahawk, one can hardly give an accurate 
account. Hardly a family throughout the land but was in 
mourning. The war debt of Plymouth was reckoned to ex- 
ceed the total amount of personal property in the colony ; 
yet although it pinched every household for many a year, it 
was paid to the uttermost farthing ; nor in this respect were 
Massachusetts and Connecticut at all behindhand. 

But while King Philip's War wrought such fearful damage 
to the l^nglish, it was for the Indians themselves utter de- 
struction. Most of the warriors were slain, and to the sur- 
vivors, as we have seen, the conquerors showed but scant 
mercy. The Puritan, who conned his Bible so earnestly, had 
taken his hint from the wars of the Jews, and swept his New 
English Canaan with a broom that was pitiless and search- 
ing. Henceforth the red man figures no more in the history 
of New England, except as an ally of the French in bloody 
raids upon the frontier. In that capacity he does mischief 
enough for yet a half-century more, but from central and 
southern New P^ngland, as an element of disturbance or a 
power to be reckoned with, he disappears forever. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE TYRANNY OF ANDROS 

The beginnings of New England were made in the full 
daylight of modern history. It was an age of town records, 
of registered deeds, of contemporary memoirs, of diplomatic 
correspondence, of controversial pamphlets, funeral sermons, 
political diatribes, specific instructions, official reports, and 
private letters. It was not a time in which mythi- 
features in cal pcrsonagcs or incredible legends could flourish, 
history of ^^^^ such things wc do not find in the history of 
Und ^"^' New England. There was nevertheless a romantic 
side to this history, enough to envelop some of its 
characters and incidents in a glamour that may mislead the 
modern reader. This wholesale migration from the smiling 
fields of merry England to an unexplored wilderness beyond 
a thousand leagues of sea was of itself a most romantic and 
thrilling event, and when viewed in the light of its historic 
results it becomes clothed with sublimitv. The men who 
undertook this work were not at all free from self-conscious- 
ness. They believed that they were doing a wonderful thing. 
They felt themselves to be instruments in accomplishing a 
kind of "manifest destiny." Their exodus was that of a 
chosen people who were at length to lay the everlasting 
foundations of God's kingdom upon earth. Such opinions, 
which took a strong colour from their assiduous study of 
the Old Testament, reacted and disposed them all the more 
to search its pages for illustrations and precedents, and to 
regard it as an oracle, almost as a talisman. In every pro- 
pitious event they saw a special providence, an act of divine 
intervention to deliver them from the snares of an ever 
watchful Satan. This steadfast faith in an unseen ruler and 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDROS 




guide was to them a ];illar of cloud b)' day and of fire by 
night. It was of great moral value. It gave them clearness 
of purpose and concentration of strength, and contributed 
toward making them, like the children of Israel, a people of 
indestructible vitality and aggressive energy. At the same 
time, in the hands of the Puritan writers, this feeling was 
apt to warp their estimates of events and throw such a 
romantic haze about things as seriously to interfere with a 
true historical ])erspective. 

Among such writings that which perhaps best epitomizes 
the Puritan philosophy is "The Wonder-working Providence 
of Zion's Saviour in New Kngland," by Captain ir^^^fj 
Kdward John.son, one of the principal fi>unders of J"ii"Min 
Wobum. It is an extremely valuable history of Xew Eng- 
land from 1628 to 1651, and every ]iage is alive with the 
virile energy of that stirring time. With narrative, argu- 
ment, and apologue, abounding in honesty of purjjosc, sub- 
limity of trust, and grotesqueness of fancy, wherein touching 
tenderness is often alternated with sternness most grim and 
merciless, yet now and then relieved by a sudden gleam of 



272 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

humour, — and all in a style that is usually uncouth and 
harsh, but sometimes bursts forth in eloquence worthy of 
Bunyan, — we are told how the founders of New England 
are soldiers of Christ enlisted in a holy war, and how they 
must *' march manfully on till all opposers of Christ's kingly 
power be abolished."' ** And as for you who are called to 
sound forth his silver trumpets, blow loud and shrill to this 
chiefest treble tune — for the armies of the great Jehovah 
are at hand." '' He standeth not as an idle spectator behold- 
ing his people's ruth and their enemies' rage, but as an actor 
in all actions, to bring to naught the desires of the wicked, 
. . . having also the ordering of every weapon in its first 
produce, guiding every shaft that flies, leading each bullet 
to his place of settling, and weapon to the wound it makes." 
To men engaged in such a crusade against the powers of 
evil, nothing could seem insignificant or trivial ; for, as John- 
son continues, in truly prophetic j^hrase, **the Lord Christ 
intends to achieve greater matters by this little handful than 
the world is aware of." 

The general sentiment of the early New L^ngland writers 
was like that of the ** Wonder-working Providence," though 
it did not always find such rhapsodic expression. It has left 
its impress upon the minds of their children's children down 
to our own time, and has affected the opinions held about 
them by other people. It has had something to do with a 
certain tacit assumption of superiority on the ])ait of New 
Englanders, upon which the men and women of other com- 
munities have been heard to comment in resentful and carj)- 
ing tones. There has j^robably never existed, in any age or 
at any sjjot on the earth's surface, a group of people that 
did not take for granted its own preeminent excellence. 
Upon some such assumption, as upon an incontrovertible 
axiom, all historical narratixes, from the chronicles of a jxir- 
ish to the annals of an empire, alike proceed. }^ut in New 
England it assumed a form esj^ecially apt to provoke chal- 
lenge. One of its unintentional effects was the setting up 
of an unreal and impossible .standard by which to judge the 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDROS 273 

acts and motives of the Puritans of the seventeenth century. 
We come upon instances of harshness and cruelty, ^ ^ , 
of narrow-minded bigotry, and superstitious frenzy ; Puritans 
and feel, perhaps, a little surprised that these men jl,dg"cd by 
had so much in common with their contempora- .^t^n^^d 
ries. Hence the interminable discussitm which 
has been called forth by the history of the Puritans, in 
which the conclusions of the writer have generally been 
determined by circumstances of birth or creed, or perhaps 
of reaction against creed. One critic points to the Boston of 
1659 or the Salem of 1692 with such gleeful satisfaction as 
used to stir the heart of Thomas Paine when he alighted 
upon an inconsistency in some text of the Bible ; while 
another, in the firm conviction that Puritans could do no 
wrong, plays fast and loose with arguments that might be 
made to justify the deeds of a Torquemada. 

PVom such methods of criticism it is the duty of historians 
as far as i)ossible to free themselves. If we consider the ' 
Puritans in the light of their surroundings as ICnglishmen 
of the seventeenth century and inaugurators of a political 
movement that was gradually to change for the better the 
aspect of things all over the earth, we cannot fail to discern 
the value of that sacred enthusiasm w'hich led them 
to regard themselves as chosen soldiers of Christy i/lhe 
It was the sj)irit of the "Wonder-working Provi- ^orkkit^'^^ 
dence " that hurled the tyrant from his throne at .^Z"^- „ 
Whitehall and prepared the way for the emancipa- 
tion of modern Europe. No spirit less intense, no spirit 
nurtured in the contemplation of things terrestrial, could 
ever have done it. The political philosophy of a Vane or 
a Sidney could never have done it. Th^e passion for liberty 
as felt by a Jefferson or an Adams, abstracted and general- 
ized from the love of particular liberties, was something 
scarcely intelligible to the seventeenth century. The ideas 
of absolute freedom of thought and speech, which we breathe 
in from childhood, were to the men of that age strange and^ 
questionable. They groped and floundered among them, 



274 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

very much as modern wool-growers in Ohio or iron-smelters 
in Pennsylvania flounder and grope among the elementary 
truths of political economy. But the spirit in which the 
Hebrew prophet rebuked and humbled an idolatrous king 
was a spirit they could comprehend. Such a spirit was sure 
\ to manifest itself in narrow cramping measures and in ugly 
acts of persecution ; but it is none the less to the fortunate 
alliance of that fervid religious enthusiasm with the English- 
man's love of self-government that our modern freedom owes 

\ its existence. 

The history of New England under Charles II. yields 
abundant proof that political liberty is no less indebted in 
the New World than in the Old to the spirit of the " Won- 
. der-working Providence.'* The theocratic ideal which the 
Merits and Puritau sought to put iuto practice in Massachu- 
of*the ^^^^^ ^^^ Connecticut was a sacred institution in 

theocracy dcfcncc of which all his faculties were kept per- 
petually alert. Much as he loved self-government, he would 
never have been so swiit to detect and so stubborn to resist 
every slightest encroachment on the part of the crown had 
not the loss of self-government involved the imminent dan- 
ger that the ark of the Lord might be abandoned to the 

^ worshippers of Dagon. It was in Massachusetts, where 
the theocracy was strongest, that the resistance to Charles 
II. was most dogged and did most to prepare the way for 
the work of achieving political independence a century later. 
I Naturally it was in Massachusetts at the same time that the 
faults of the theocracy were most conspicuous. It was 
there that priestly authority most clearly asserted itself in 
such oppressive acts as are always witnessed when too much 
power is left in the hands of men whose primary allegiance 
is to a kingdom not of this world. Much as we owe to the 
theocracy for warding off the encroachments of the crown, 
we cannot be sorry that it was itself crushed in the process. 
It was w^ell that it did not survive its dav of usefulness, and 
that the outcome of the struggle was what has been aptly 
termed "the emancipation of Massachusetts." 




THt: TYRANNY OF ANDKOS 




The basis of the thwcratic constitution of this common-^ 
wealth was the provision by which the exercise of the fran- 
chise was made an incident of chiirch-membcrship. Unless 
a man could take part in the Lord's Supper, as administered 
in the churches of the colony, he cmild not vote or Hesirjction 
hold office. Church and state, parish and townj,,"'*'" 
were thus virtually identified. Here, as in some to church 
other aspects of early ^^ew Kngland, one is re- 
minded of the ancient Greek cities, where the freeman who 
could vote in the market-place or serve his turn as magis- 
trate was the man qualified to perform sacrifices to the 
tutelar deities of the tribe ; other men might dwell in the 
city but had no share in making or executing its laws. The 
limitation of civil rights by religious tests is indeed one of 
those common inheritances from the old Aryan world that 
we find again and again cropping out, even down to the 
exclusion of Catholics from the House of Commons from 
1562 to 1829. The obvious purpose of this policy in Eng- 
land was self-protection ; and in like manner the restriction 



276 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

of the suffrage in Massachusetts w as designed to pr otect 
the colony_against aggressive episcopa cy and to maintain 
unirnpaired the uniformity of purpose which had brought 
\ the settlers across the ocean. Under the circumstances 
there was something to be said in behalf of such a measure 
of self-protection, and the principle required but slight 
extension to cover such cases as the banishment of Roger 
Williams and the Antinomians. There was another side 
y to the case, however. From the very outset this exclusive 
policy was in some ways a source of weakness to Massachu- 
setts, though we have seen that the indirect effect was to 
diversify and enrich the political life of New England as a 
\ whole. 

At first it led to the departure of the men who founded 
Connecticut, and thereafter the way was certainly open for 
those who preferred the Connecticut policy to go w'here it 
prevailed. Some such segregation was no doubt effected, 
but it could not be complete and thorough. Men who pre- 
ferred Boston without the franchise to Hartford with it 
It was a would remain in Massachusetts ; and thus the 
^'nucaf elder colony soon came to possess a discontented i 
discontent class of people, always ready to join hand and glove I 
with dissenters or mischief-makers, or even with emissaries I 
of the crown. It afforded a suggestive commentary upon 
all attempts to suppress human nature by depriving it of a 
share in political life ; instead of keeping it inside where you 
can try conclusions with it fairly, you thrust it out to plot 
mischief in the dark. Within twenty years from the found- ' 
ing of Boston the disfranchisement of such citizens as could 
not participate in church-communion had begun to be re- 
garded as a serious political grievance. These men wer6 . 
obliged to pay taxes and were liable to be called upon for 
military service against the Indians ; and they naturally felt 
that they ought to have a voice in the management of public 
affairs. 

Ik^sides this fundamental ground of complaint, there were 
derivative grievances. Under the influence of the clergy 



THt: TYRANNY OF ANUROS 277 

justice was administered in somewhat inquisitorial fashion, 
there was an uncertainty as to just what the law was, a 
strong disposition to confuse questions of law with questions 
of ethics, and great laxity in the admission and estimation of 
evidence. As early as 1639 people had begun to [nquSsno- 
coniplain that too much power was vested in tlie ™'a*f"""f 
discretion of the magistrate, and they clamoured j"»'i'e 
for a code of laws ; but as Winthrop says, the magistrates 
"and ministers were " not very forward in this matter," for 
they preferred to supplement the common law of England by 
decisions based on the Old Testament rather than by a body 




of statutes. It was not until 1641, after a persistent strug- 
gle, that the deputies won a decisive victory over the assist 
ants and secured for Massachusetts a definite code of laws. 
In the Xew Haven colony similar theocratic notions led tht. 
.settlers to disi>ense with trial by jury because they could 

' Tlu lie<fy of Ltberties. drawn up l)y Kev. Natlmniel Ward, 
Ipswicli, the famous aullior of The Simple Cobler of Agga-.i-ani. L 
don, 1647. 



y 



It"- 



\ 



278 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

find no precedent for it in the laws of Moses. Here, as in 
Massachusetts, the inquisitorial administration of justice 
combined with partial disfranchisement to awaken discon- 

j tent, and it was partly for this reason that New Haven fell 
so easily under the sway of Connecticut. 

In Massachusetts after 1650 the opinion rapidly gained 
ground that all baptized persons of upright and decorous 
lives ought to be ccjnsidered, for practical purposes, as mem- 
bers of the church, and therefore entitled to the exercise 
The'- Half. ^^ political rights, even though unqualified for par- 
way Cove- ticipation in the Lord's Supper. This theory of 
church-membership, based on what was at that 
time stigmatized as the *' Halfway Covenant," aroused in-| 
tense opposition. It was the great question of the day. In 
1657 a council was held in Boston, which approved the prin- 
ciple of the Halfway Covenant ; and as this decision was far 

-from satisfying the churches, a synod erf all the clergymen 
in Massachusetts was held five years later, to reconsider the 
great question. The decision of the synod substantially con- 
firmed the decision of the council, but there were some dis- 
senting voices. Foremo.st among the dissenters, who wished 
to retain the old theocratic regime in all its strictness, was 
Charles Chauncey, the president of Har\^ard College, and 
Increase Mather agreed with him at the time, though he 
afterward saw reason to change his opinion, and published 
two tracts in favour of the Halfway Covenant. Most bitter 
of all toward the new theorj' of church-membership was, 
naturally enough, Mr. Davenport of New Haven. 

This burning question was the source of angry contentions 
in the First Church of Boston. Its teacher, the learned and 
cynical Norton, died in 1663, and four years later the aged 
pastor, John Wilson, followed him. In choosing a successor 
to Wilson the church decided to declare itself in opposition 
to the liberal decision of the synod, and in token thereof 
invited Davenport to come from New Haven to take charge 
of it. Daveni)()rt, who was then seventy years old, was dis- 
trusted at the recent annexation of his colonv to Connecticut. 



\ 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDROS 279 

He accepted the invitation and came to lloston, against the 
wishes of nearly half of the Hoston congregation who did not 
like the illiberal principle which he represented. In little 
more than a year his ministry at Hoston was ended by death ; 
but the opposition to his call had already proceeded so far 




^^,ti.i?jX S*.i>»? 



frss 



that a secession from the old church had become inevitable. 
In i66g the advocates of the Halfway Covenant pg„„j 
organized themselves into a new society nnder the 
title of the "Third Church in Hoston." A wooden church, 
meeting-house was built on a lot which had once 
belonged to the late Governor Winthrop, in what was then 
the south part of the town, so that the society and its meet- 



28o THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

ing-house became known as the South Church ; and after 
a new church founded in Summer Street in 171 7 took the 
name of the New South, the church of 1669 came to be 
further distinguished as the Old South. As this church a 
represented a liberal idea which was growing in favour with j 
the people, it soon became the most flourishing church in V 
America. After sixty years its numbers had increased so 
that the old meeting-house could not contain them ; and in 
1729 the famous building which still stands was erected on -^ 
the same spot, — a building with a grander history than any 
other on the American continent, unless it be that other 
plain brick building in Philadelphia where the Declaration of 
Independence was adopted and the Federal Constitution 
framed. 

The wrath of the First Church at this secession from its 
ranks was deep and bitter, and for thirteen years it refused 
to entertain ecclesiastical intercourse with the South Church. 
But by 1682 it had become apparent that the king and his 
friends were meditating an attack upon the Puritan theo- 
cracy in New England. It had even been suggested, in the 
council for the colonies, that the Church of P2ngland should 
be established in Massachusetts, and that none but duly 
ordained Episcopal clergymen should be allowed to sol- 
emnize marriages. Such alarming suggestions began to 
impress the various Puritan churches with the importance 
of uniting their forces against the common enemy ; and 
accordingly in 1682 the quarrel between the two Boston 
societies came to an end. There was urgent need of all 
the sympathy and good feeling that the community could 
muster, whereby to cheer itself in the crisis that was coming. 

The four years from 1684 to 1688 were the darkest years 
in the history of New luigland. Massachusetts, though not 
lacking in the spirit, had not the power to beard the tyrant 
as she did eighty years later. Her attitude toward the 
Stuarts — as we have seen — had been sometimes openly 
haughty and defiant, sometimes silent and sullen, but always 
independent. At the accession of Charles II. the colonists 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDROS 281 

had thought it worth while to send commissioners to Eng- 
land to confer with the king and avoid a quarrel. Charles 
promised to respect their charter, but insisted that in return 
they must take an oath of allegiance to the crown, must 
administer justice in the king's name, and must 

1 1 • 1 • • 1 • 1 r ^n Demands 

repeal their laws restrictmg the right of suffrage ofcuarics 
to church members and prohibiting the Episcopal 
form of worship. When the people of Massachusetts re- 
ceived this message they consented to administer justice in 
the king's name, but all the other matters were referred 
for consideration to a committee, and so they dropped out 
of sight. 

When the royal commissioners came to Boston in 1664, 
they were especially instructed to ascertain whether Massa- 
chusetts had complied with the king's demands ; but upon 
this point the legislature stubbornly v»^ithheld any definite 
answer, while it frittered away the time in trivial alterca- 
tions with the royal commissioners. The war with Holland 
and the turbulent state of L^nglish politics operated for 
several years in favour of this independent attitude of the 
colonists, though during all this time their enemies at court 
were busy with intrigues and accusations. Apart from mere 
slanders the real grounds of complaint were the restriction 
of the suffrage, whereby members of the Church of ICngland 
were shut out ; the claims of the eastern proprie- ^^oxw- 
tors, heirs of Mason and Gorges, whose territory p^^'."^^ 

*^ . , ' against 

Massachusetts had absorbed ; the infraction of the Massachu- 
navigation laws ; and the coinage of pine-tree shil- 
lings. The last named measure had been forced upon the 
colonists by the scarcity of a circulating medium. Until 
166 1 Indian wampum had been a legal tender, and far into 
the eighteenth century it remained current in small transac- 
tions. "In 1693 the ferriage from New York to Brooklyn 
was eight stivers in wampum or a silver twopence." ^ As 
early as 1652 Massachusetts had sought to supjJy the de- 

^ Wecden, Indian Money as a Factor in New England Civilization, 
Johns Hopkins University Studies, II. viii., ix. p. 30. 



282 



THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 




INDIAN WAMPUM 



ficiency by the issue of shillings and sixpences. It was an 
affair of convenience and probably had no political purpose. 
The infraction of the navigation laws was a more serious 

matter. " Ships from 
France, Spain, and 
the Canaries traded 
directly with Boston, 
and brought in goods 
which had never paid duty in any English port." ^ The 
effect of this was to excite the jealousy of the merchants 
in London and other ICnglish cities and to deprive Massa- 
chusetts of the sympathy of that already numerous and pow- 
erful class of people. 

In 1675, the first year of King Philip's War, the British 
government made up its mind to attend more closely to the 
The Lords affairs of its American colonies. It had got the 
of 1 rade Uutch War off its hauds, and could give heed to 
other things. The general supervision of the colonies was 
assigned to a standing committee of the privy council, 
styled the " Lords of the Committee of Trade and Planta- 
tions," and henceforth familiarly known as the " Lords of 
Trade." Next year the Lords of Trade sent an agent to 



Boston, with a letter to Governor Leverett about the Mason 
and Gorges claims. Under cover of this errand the messen- 
ger was to go about and ascertain the sentiments which 
people in the Kennebec and Piscataqua towns, as well as in 
BostcMi, entertained for the government of Massachusetts. 
The person to whom this work was entrusted was l^ldward 

' Doyle, ii. 253. 






THE TYKAN.W OF ANUROS 



283 



Randolph, a cousin of Robert Mason who inherited the pro- 
prietary claim to the I'iscataqiia country. To these Edward 
men had old John Mason bequeathed his deadly '*''"'''''i*'' 
fend with Massachusetts, and the fourteen years which 




Randolph now spent in New luigland were busily devoted 
to sowing the seeds of strife. In 1676 the king appointed 
him collector and surveyor of customs at the jwrt of Boston, 
with instructions to enforce the navigation laws. Randolph 



2S4 I'HE BKGINNIXGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

was not the man to do unpopular things in such a way as 
to dull the edge of the infliction ; he took delight in adding 
insult to injury. He was at once harsh and treacherous. 
His one virtue was pecuniary integrity ; he was inaccessible 
to bribes and did not pick and steal from the receipts at the 
custom-house. In the other relations of life he was disen- 
cumbered of scruples. His abilities were not great, but his 
industry was untiring, and he pursued his enemies with the 
tenacity of a sleuth-hound. As an excellent British histo- 
rian observes, ** he was one of those men who, once enlisted 
as partisans, lose every other feeling in the passion which is 
engendered of strife." ^ 

The arrival of such a man boded no good to Massachu- 
setts. His reception at the town-house was a cold one. 
Governor Leverett liked neither his looks nor his message, 
and kept his peaked hat on while he read the letter ; when 
he came to the signature of the king's chief secretary of 
state, he asked, with careless contempt, " Who is this Henry 
Coventry ? " Randolph's choking rage found \ent in a 
letter to the king, taking pains to remind him that the gov- 
ernor of Massachusetts had once been an officer in Crom- 
well's army. As we read this and think with what ghoulish 
glee the writer would have betrayed Colonel (loffe into the 
hands of the headsman, had any clue been given him, we 
can quite understand why Hubbard and Mather had nothing 
to say about the mysterious stranger at Hadley. ICverything 
that Randolph coukl think of that would goad and irritate 
the king, he reported in full to London : his letters were 
sj)ecimens of that worst sort of lie that is based upon dis- 
torted half-truths ; and his malicious pen but seldom lay 
idle. 

While wailing for the effects of these rei)orts to ripen, 
Rand<)lj)h was busily in.triguing with some of the leading 
men in Boston wbf> were dissatisfictl with the policy of the 
dominant party, and under his careful handling a jxirty was 
soon brought into existence which was readv to counsel sub- 

' Doyle. I^iiriian Colonic^, ii. 254. 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDROS 




niissiion tn the royal will. Such was tlic birth iif Ti)r>ism in 
New England. The leader of this party was Juseph IJiidley, 
son of the grim verse-maker who had come over as lowph 
lieutenant to Winthrop. The yonnfjer Dudley was ""'''*' 
graduated at Han-ard in 1665, and proceeded to study the- 



286 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

^>logy, but soon turned his attention entirely to politics. In 
1673 he was a deputy from Roxbury in the General Court ; 
in 1675 he took part in the storming of the Narragansett 
fort; in 1677 and the three following years he was one of 
the Federal Commissioners. In character and temper he 
differed greatly from his father. Like the proverbial minis- 
ter's .son whose feet arc swift toward folly, Joseph Dudley 
seems to have learned in stern bleak years of childhood to 
rebel against the Puritan theory of life. Much of the abuse 
that has been heaped upon him, as a renegade and traitor, is 
probably undeserved. It does not appear that he ever made 
any pretence of love for the Puritan commonwealth, and 
there were many like him who had as lief be ruled by king 
as by clergy. But it cannot be denied that his suppleness 
and .sagacity went along with a moral nature that was weak 
and vulgar. Jo.seph Dudley was essentially a self-.seeking 
politician and courtier, like his famous kinsman of the pre- 
vious century, Robert, Earl of Leicester. His party in 
Massachusetts was largely made up of men who had come 
to the colony for conmiercial reasons, and had little or 
no sympathy with the objects for which it was founded. 
Among them were l^piscopalians, Presbyterians, and Bap- 
tists, who were allowed no chance for public worship, as well 
as many others who, like Gallio, cared for none of these 
things. Their numbers, moreover, must have been large, 
for Boston had grown to be a town of 5000 inhabitants, the 
population of Massachusetts was approaching 30,000, and, 
according to Hutchinson, scarcely one grown man in five 
was a church member qualified to vote or hold office. Such 
a fact speaks volumes as to the change which was coming 
over the Puritan world. No wonder that the clergy had 
begun to preach about the weeds and tares that were over- 
running Christ's pleasant garden. No wonder that the spirit 
of revolt against the disfranchising policy of the theocracy 
was ripe. 

It was in 1679, when this weakness of the body politic 
had been duly studied and reported by Randolph, and when 



THE TYRANNY OK ANDROS 2S7 

all New England was groaning under the bereavements and 
burdens entailed by Philip's war, that the Stuart govern- 
ment began its final series of assaults uijon Massachusetts. 
The claims of the eastern proprietors, the heirs of Mason 
and Gorges, fiirnishetl the occasion. Since 1643 Ko>ai 
the four I'iscataqua towns — HampKm, K.vetcr, ,^i™g'i^' 
Dover, and Portsmouth — had remained under the ii^nipshire 
jurisdiction of Massachusetts, After the Restoration the 
Mason claim had been revived, and in 1677 was referred to 
the chief-justices Nortii and Rainsford. Their decision was 
that Mason's claim 
had always been 
worthless as based on 
a grant in which the 
old Plymouth Com- 
pany had exceeded 
its powers. Thcyalso 
decided that Massa- 
chusetts had no valid 
claim since the char- 
ter assigned her a 
boundary just north 
of the Merrimack. 
This decision left the 
four towns subject U> 
none but the king, 
who forthwith in 1679 
proceeded to erect 
them into the royal 
province of New 
Hanip.shirc, with pre- 
sident and council 

appointed by the crown, and an assembly chosen by the 
people, but endowed with little authority, — a tricksome 
counterfeit of popular government: Within three years an 
arrogant and thieving ruler, Edward Cranfield, had goaded 
New Hampshire to acts of insurrection. 




288 THE HEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

» 

To the decisions of the chief-j list ices Massachusetts must 
The Gorges ^^^^^^ submit. The Gorges claim led to more seri- 
ciaim ^)ll^ results. Under Cromwell's rule in 1652 — the 

same year in which she began coining money — Massachu- 
setts had extended her sway over Maine. In 1665 Colonel 
Nichols and his commissioners, acting upon the exjjress 
instructions of Charles II., took it away from her. In 1668, 
after the commissioners had gone home, Massachusetts 
coolly took possession again. In 1677 the chief-justices 
decided that the claim of the (iorges family, being based on 
a grant from James I., was valid. Tiien the young Fcrdi- 
nando Gorges, grandson of the first proprietor, offered to 
sell the province to the king, who had now taken it into 
his head that he would like to bestow it upon the Duke of 
Monmouth, his favourite son by Lucy Walters. Before 
Charles had resj)onded, (jovernor Leverett had struck a 
bargain with (iorges, who ceded to Massachusetts all his 
rights over Maine for ^{^1250 in hard cash. When the king 
heard of this transaction he was furious. He sent a letter to 
Hoston, commanding the General Court to .surrender the 
province again on repayment (»f this sum of X1250, and ex- 
pressing his indignation that the people should thus dare to 
dispose of an imixMtant claim off-hand without consulting his 
wishes. In the srnne letter the colony was enjoined to put 
in force the royal orders of seventeen years before, concern- 
ing the oath of allegiance, the I'estriction of the .suffrage, 
and the j^rnhihition of the I':piscoi)al fnrni of worship. 

This perenijnory message reached Boston about Christ- 
mas, 1679. Leverett. the sturdy Ironsides, had died six 
months before, and his pl.ice was filled bv .^imon Hrad.strcet. 
simnn a man ol moderate powers but great integritv, and 

allrliiil'""^ held in peculiar reverence :is the last survivor of 
'"'^' those tluit had been chosen lo oftux* before leaving 

I'jigland by the leader^ of the grent Puritan exodus. Bom 
in a Lincolnshire \ill:ige in iTx);^. lu' was now seventy-six 
years (lid. 1 le had t;iken his degree iit I-jnmann el College, 
Cambridge, had served as secretary to the luirl of Warwick. 




THE TYRANNY OF ANDKOS 




<^^^(^n-Jf.>L^&C- 



and in 1629 hail been appointed member of the board of 
assistants for the colony about to bo established on Massa- 
chusetts bay. In this position he had remained with honour 
for half a century, while he had also served as I*'ederal Com- 
missioner and as agent for the colony in London. His wife, 
who died in 1672, wat 
a woman of quaint 
learning and quainter 
versos, which her con- 
temporaries admired beyond measure. One of her books 
was republished in London, with the title: "The Tenth 
Muse, lately sprung up in America." John Norton once 



^»n£ 3y<'^^Ut. 



2yo THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

said that if V^irgil could only have heard the seraphic poems 
of Anne Bradstreet, he would have thrown his own heathen 
doggerel into the fire. She was sister of Joseph Dudley, 
and evidently inherited this rhyming talent from her father.^ 
Governor Bradstreet belonged to the moderate party who 
would have been glad to extend the franchise, but he did 
not go with his brother-in-law in subservience to the king. 

When the (ieneral Court assembled, in May, 1680, the full 
number of eighteen assistants appeared, for the first time 
in the history of the colony, and in accordance with an 
expressed wish of the king. They were ready to yield in 
trifles, but not in essentials. After wearisome discussion, 
the answer to the royal letter was decided on. It stated in 
Massachu- vague and unsatisfactory terms that the royal or- 
"^"r}»The ^^^^ ^^ '^- either had been carried out already 
*""« or would be in good time, while to the demand for 

the surrender of Maine no reply whatever was made, save 
that "they were heartily sorry that any actings of theirs 
should be displeasing to his Majesty.*' After this, when 
Randolph wrote home that the king's letters were of no 
more account in Massachusetts than an old London Gazette, 
he can hardly be accused of stretching the truth. Randolph 
kept busily at work, and seems to have persuaded the Bishop 

^ It is only fair to quote a characteristic specimen of Mrs. Brad- 
street's verse. In her poem, T/w Four Elements, Air speaks as follows : 

• Nay, what arc wurds which do reveal the mind ? 
Si>eak who or what they will, they are but wind. 
Your drums', your trumixrts*. and your organs' sound. 
What is 't but forced air which doih relx.und '. 
And such arr echin-s and re|x»rt of th' ;;un 
That tells afar the exploit which it hath done. 
N'our soni,'s ;ind pleasant tunc^, tlu'y are the same, 
And so 's the notes which ni.uhtinnalcs do frame. 
Ve for^'inj; smiths, if Ix-Uows ome \\ere j^one. 
Vour red-hot work more coldly would ro on. 
Vc mariners, t i-> 1 that till your saiU 
\nd sjH^cd you t(» your p«»rt with wished j^ales. 
Wlurn burninjn heat doth cause you taint, 1 cool ; 
.And wluMi I smile, your ocean 's like a po<»l. 
I help t«« ripe the corn. 1 turn llu- mill. 
.\nd with m\srlf I evrrv vacuum fill.' etc. 



M 



TENTH MUSE 

Lately rprurigup in iVMERicA. 

Severall Poems, 

with great variety of VVit 

and Learning/ullof delight. 
Wherein cfptcially is contained a coni- 

pleatdi(cour(e and description of 

The FourX«»^''*'iT» 
. ^4g« if Maty 

Together with an Exaa Epitomic of 1 

the Four Monarchies, viz. 
(AjfyUdHy 

The <^"f'^^y 
iGrecian, 

« Alfo^a Dialogue between Old E«cLwi and 
•? ^^f^f Wjconcerning the late troubles. 

fi By aGentlewomanjn ihf)rc"p'art?. 

g P« intc J « Lo. /,;, for ^/.pS „ BomM-zi the figi;^ of The 
ij Btblcm Popes He?d- Alley, i^yo. 



TrTI.I-. »)l ASM-: I'.kAliMKHr IS miuK 



292 THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

of London that if the charter could be annulled, episcopacy 
might be established in Massachusetts as in England. In 
February, 1682, a letter came from the king demanding sub- 
mission and threatening legal proceedings against the char- 
ter. Dudley was then sent as agent to London, and with 
him was sent a Mr. Richards, of the extreme clerical party, 
to watch him. 

Meanwhile the king's position at home had been changing. 
He had made up his mind to follow his father's example 
and try the experiment of setting his people at defiance and 
governing without a parliament. This could not be done 
without a great supply of money. Louis XIV. had plenty 
of money, for there was no constitution in France to pre- 
vent his squeezing what he wanted out of the pockets of 
an oppressed people. France was thriving greatly now, for 
Colbert had introduced a comparatively free system of trade 
between the provinces and inaugurated an era of prosperity 
soon to be cut short by the expulsion of the Huguenots. 
Louis could get money enough for the asking, and would be 
delighted to foment civil disturbances in ICngland, so as to 
tie the hands of the only power which at that moment could 
interfere with his seizing Alsace and Lorraine and invading 
Flanders. The pretty Louise de Keroualle, Duchess of 
Portsmouth, with her innocent baby face and heart as cold 
as any reptile's, was the French Delilah chosen to shear the 
locks of the British Samson. By such means and from such 
motives a secret treaty was made in February, 1681, by 

which Louis agreed to pay Charles 2,ooo,ocx) livres 
truaty dowu, and 500,000 more in each of the next two 

chTricT II. y<-*^rs, on condition that he should summon no more 
aiid Louis parliaments within that time. This bargain for 

securing the means of overthrowing the laws and 
liberties of luigland was, on the part of Charles II., an act no 
less reprehensible than some of those for which his father 
had gone to the block. Hut Charles could now afford for 
a while to wreak his evil will. He had already summoned a 
parliament for the 2rst of March, to meet at Oxford within 



THE TYRANNY OK ANDROS 293 

the precincts of the subservient university, and out of reach 
of the high-spirited freemen of London. He now forced 
a quarrel with the new parliament and dissolved it within a 
week. A joiner named Stephen College, who had spoken 
his mind too freel)' in the taverns at Oxford with regard to 
the.se proceedings, was drawn and quartered. The Whig 




leader. Lord Shaftesbury, was obliged to flee to Holland. 
In the absence of 3 parliament the only power of organized 
resistance to the king's tyranny resided in the corporate 
governments of the chartered towns. The charter shameful 
of London was accordingly attacked by a writ of f^^"''" 
qiio -warranto, and in June, 1683, the time-ser\'ing Enghnd 
judges declared it confiscated. George Jeffreys, a low 
drunken fellow whom Charles had made Lord Chief Justice, 



294 THE BE(;iNNINGS OF NEW ENCJLANI) 

went on a circuit through the country ; and, as Roger North 
says, "made all the charters, like the walls of Jericho, fall 
down before him, and returned laden with surrenders, the 
spoils of towns." At the same time a terrible blow was 
dealt at two of the greatest Whig families in England. Lord 
William Russell, son of the Karl of Bedford, and Algernon 
Sidney, younger son of the Karl of Leicester, two of the 
purest patriots and ablest liberal leaders of the day, were 
tried on a false charge of treason and beheaded. 

By this quick succession of high-handed measures, the 
friends of law and liberty were for a moment disconcerted 
and jDaralyzed. In the frightful abasement of the courts of 
justice which these events so clearly showed, the freedom 
of luiglishmen seemed threatened in its last stronghold. 
The doctrine of passive obedience to monarchs was preached 
in the pulpits and inculcated by the university of Oxford, 
which ordered the works of John Milton to be publicly 
burned. Sir Robert Kilmer wrote that *' not only in human 
laws, but even in divine, a thing may by the king be com- 
manded contrary ^) law, and yet obedience to such a com- 
mand is necessary." Charles felt so strong that in 1684 he 
flatly refused to summon a parliament. 

It was not long before the effects of all this were felt in 
New luigland. The mission of Dudley and his colleague 
, was fruitless. They returned to Ho.ston, and Ran- 
srttsn-- (lolph, who had followed them to London, now 
surroiuU;! followcd thcm back, armed with a writ of quo 
hciciuirtcr .^,^^,-,.^^,^^^, \\\\\q\\ he was instructed not to .serve 

until he should have given Massachusetts one more chance 
to humble herself in the dust. Should she modify her con- 
stitution to please a tyrant or see it trampled under foot } 
Recent events in l^ngland served for a solemn warning ; for 
the moment the Tories were silenced ; j)erhaps after all, the 
absolute rule of a king was hardly to be preferred to the 
sway of the Puritan clergy : the day when the House of 
Commons sat still and wejn seemed to have returned. A 
great town meeting was held in the Old South Meeting- 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDROS 



295 



House, and the moderator requested all who were for sur- 
rendering the charter to hold np their hands. Not a hand 
was lifted, and out from the throng a solitary voice ex- 
claimed, with deep-drawn breath, " The Lord be praised ! " 




^■■/t^ 



Then arose Increase Mather, president of Har\-ard College, 
and reminded them how their fathers did win this 
charter, and should they deliver it up unto the iii,ltei'i"b>- 
spoilor who demanded it " even as Ahab required ^h^n'"^,"' 
Naboth's vineyard. Oh! their children would be /""=='■ 
bound to curse them."' Such was the attitude of 
Massachusetts, and when it was known in London, the blow 



296 THK BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

was struck. For technical reasons Randolph's writ was not 
served ; but on the 2 1 st of June a decree in chancery annulled 
the charter of Massachusetts. 

'i'o appreciate the force of this blow we must pause for a 
moment ami consider what it involved. The right to the 
soil of North America had been hitherto regarded in Eng- 
land, on the strength of the discoveries of the Cabot s, as an 
appurtenance to the crown of Henry VII., — as something 
which descended from father to son like the palace at Hamil- 
ton Court or the castle at Windsor, but which the sovereign 
mi<;ht alienate by his voluntary act just as he might sell or 
^i\e awa\' a j)iece of his royal domain in ICngland. Over 
thi'^ \a.st t err it or V it was doubtful how far Parliament was 
entitled to exercise authority, and the rights of English- 
men settled tiiere had theoretically no security save in the 

])rovisions ol the various charters by which the 

i-.it. . t ..t ' , .... 

:tiui. .■:-.; eiown had delei^ated its authority to individual 
proprietor.^ or to private companies. It was thus 
on the charter -ranted by Charles T. to the Company of 
i\Iass;u"lHisetts Hay that not onlv the cherished jwlitical and 
eccle.siastir:il institution.s of the eolonv, but even the titles 
of iii(li\ idn;il> to theii' lands an<l houses, were supposed to Ix? 
founded. H\ the abroL^ation ot" the charter, all rights and 
immunities that had been based upon it were at once swept 
awav, and e\erv rood of the soil of Massachusetts became 
the personal |)ropert\- of the Stuart kin^, who might, if he 
should p«)ssess the will and the power, turn out all the 
})resent oecujKUits or otherwise deal with them as trespass- 
ers. Such at least was the theory of Charles II., and to 
show that he meant to wreak his venujeance with no gentle 
hand, he apj^ointed as his viceroy the brutal Percy Kirke, — 
a man who would have no scru])les about hanging a few 
citizens without trial, should occasion require it. 

Hut in h'ebruary, 16S5, just as Charles seemed to be get- 
tint; evervthinj;* arran;;ed to his mind, a .stroke of apoplexy 
carried him off the scene, and his brother ascended the 
throne. Monmouth's rebellion, and the horrible cruelties 



THK TYRANNY OF ANDROS 




that followed, kept Colonel Kirke busy in Kngland through 
the suminer, and left the new kiny scant leisure to think 
about America. Late in the autumn, having made up his 
mind that he could not spare such an exemplary 
knave as Kirke, James II. sent over Sir Rdmund murd 
Andres. In the mean time the government of 
Massachusetts had been administered by Dudley, who showed 



::i|.s llll. BK<;iNNIX(iS UK NKW KM;I-AM> 

himsdf williiij; Id ]ir(itit by tlio niisfurtiines of his country. 
Arnlnis li;ul Ion;; Ik-cii uiii- of Jann.'s's fiivouritcs. He wns 
tin- (lull ;liiiI doj^i^al l'jij;lisli otlictT siicli as uiic itften muets. 
IiiHii'st cnmi^h ami fuilhful t'l liis muster, neither cniei iior 
r;!]t;ici<>iis. !mt t:i>;irse in liiire and wantiny in tact. Somt; 
yeais liefnrc. whesi ,i;(ivermir <il Now York, he had a teni- 
tiirial (lisiHite with (."urnKvtii'iil, and nuw fherishcti a };riidj;o 
a;;Liinsl ilie |)ec|ile nf Ni-w I'Jijiland. wt that, fnmi James's 
puiiit cjf view, lie was wdi lilted tu l)c tlieir gDvermir. James 
wisliol I'l ahiilish all the l<n-al ^nvernments in America, and 
nnite Ihem. as far as pnssilile. under a sinj^le adniinistratiiin. 
ill iirdei' III reniler iheir inilllary -treni^th more effective. 
With ['lyiiiiiiith there innld lie no troidile ; she had never 




Milfen 


me Imm the ontsct 


.land ., 


id Connecticut were 


n.^t lA 


vnted in iliie fiirm 


> went 


tn llartl.ird. to seize 


as niiV 


snrrendered. While 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDROS 299 

Sir Edmund was bandying threats with stout Robert Treat, 
the queller of Indians and now governor of Con- The char- 
necticut, in the course of their evening conference October' 
the candles were suddenly blown out, and when 3>» 1687 
after some scraping of tinder they were lighted again the 
document was nowhere to be found, for Caj)tain Joseph 
Wads worth had carried it away and hidden it in the hollow 
trunk of a mighty oak tree.^ Nevertheless for the moment 
the colony was obliged to submit to the tyrant. Next 
day the secretary, John Allyn, wrote "F'inis" on the colonial 
records and shut up the book. Within another twelve- 
month New York and New Jersey were added to the vice- 
royalty of Andros ; so that all the northern colonies from 

the forests of Maine to the 
/^yi-^^ ^f ^ ^^ Delaware river were thus 

^^^V^'^^^^^yY/L^ A^ brought under the arbitrary 
y^ J ^^^^^ rule of one man, who was 

responsible to no one but 
the king for whatever he might take it into his head to do. 

The vexatious character of the new government was most 
strongly felt at Boston, where Andros had his headquarters. 
Measures were at once taken for the erection of an I^pisco- 
pal church, and meantime the roval order was that 

... ' hpiscopal 

one of the prmcipal meetmg-houses should be services in 
seized for the use of the Church of England. This 
was an ominous beginning. In the eyes of the people it 
was much more than a mere questicm of disturbing Puritan 
prejudices. They had before them the experience of Scot- 
land during the past ten years, the savage times of *'01d 
Mortality," the times which had seen the tyrannical prelate, 
on the lonely moor, begging in vain for his life, the times 
of Drumclog and Bothwell Brigg, of Claverhouse and his 
flinty-hearted troopers, of helpless women tied to stakes on 
the Solway shore and drowned by inches in the rising tide. 
What had happened in one part of the world might happen 

^ The venerable Charter Oak remained one of the historic landmarks 
of Hartford until August 20, 1856, when it was blown down in a gale. 



THE IIECINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 




^^^-^ iviJ:^ 



in ajiothcr, for the Stuart p<plicy was tlio same. It aimed 
not at sociiriii^' tnloiatiiiii l)iit at asserting unchecked su- 
premacy. Its demand for an im.-ti was tliu prelude to its 
seiiiinff an ell. and sn mir furefatliers understood it. Sir 
Kdniund's furmal demand fcir the Old South Meeting-House 
was flatly refiised. hut on C,o<k\ I-Viday. 1687, the sexton 
was fri^'htened into ()[ienin^' it, and thenceforward ICpiscopal 
services were held there alternately with the regular services 
until the overthrow of Andros. The pastor, Samuel Wil lard, 
was Sim of the gallant veteran who had rescued the bclea- 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDKOS 301 

gucred people of Brookfield in King Philip's war.' Amusing 
passages occurred between him and Sir Edmund, who rel- 
ished the pleasantry of keeping minister and congregation 
waiting an hour or two in the street on Sundays before 
yielding to them the use of their meeting-house. More 
kindly memories of the unpopular governor are associated 
with the building of the first King's Chapel on the spot 
where its venerable successor now stands. The |,-,„ind[no 
church was not finished until after Sir Mdmund "_'."'« 
had taken his de])arturo, but Lady Andros, who ciupei. 
died in February, 1688, lies in the burying-ground '"'"* 
hard by. Her gentle manners had won all hearts. For the 
moment, we are told, one touch of nature made enemies kin, 
and as Sir I-^mund walked to the town-house " many a head 

was bared to the bereaved 

husband that before had 
remained stubbornly cov- 
ered to the exalted gov- 

The dos[>otic rule of 
Andr<)s was felt in more 
serious ways than in the 
seizing upon a meeting- 
house. Arbitrary taxes 
were imposeil, encroach- 
ments were made 

Tyranny 

upon comm<m 

lands as in older manorial 

times, and the writ of habeas corpus was suspended. Dudley 

was appointed censor of the press, and nothing was allowed 

' lie was president of Harvard (wilh iht anomalons title of vlce- 
prcsidenl, ;ul<ii>tt(l for a diplomatic reason) from 1700 to 1707. His 
great-Kraiidson. Joseph Wiilard. astronomer and Hellenist, was presi- 
dent of Harvard from 1781 lo i«04. Sec Qiiincy's History of flanmrd 
UnhvrsHy, i. 14J ; ii. 244-283, 

" The quotation is from an unpublished Idler of Rev. Robert Rat- 
cliffe to the Bishop of London, cited in an able article in thy Boslon 
Herahi. Januarj- 4, 1888. I have not seen the letter. 




302 THE HKC;iNNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

to be printed without his permission. All the public records 
of the late New England governments were ordered to be 
brought to Boston, whither it thus became necessary to 
make a tedious journey in order to consult them. All deeds 
and wills were required to be registered in Boston, and 
excessive fees were charged for the registry. It was pro- 
claimed that all private titles to land were to be ransacked, 
and that whoever wished to have his title confirmed must pay 
a heavy quit-rent, which under the circufnstances amounted 
to blackmail. The General Court was abolished. The power 
of taxation was taken from the town meetings and lodged 
with the governor. Against this crowning iniquity the town 
of Ipswich, led by its sturdy pastor, John Wise, made protest. 
In response Mr. Wise was thrown into prison, fined ;£50, 
and suspended from the ministry. A notable and powerful 
character was this John Wise. One of the broadest thinkers 

lohn Wise '^^^^^ ^"^^^"^ ^"^'^^^ writers of his time, he seems like 
oi Ipswich ^ forerunner of the liberal Unitarian divines of the 
nineteenth century. His "Vindication of the Government 
of the New ICngland Churches," published in 1717, was a 
masterly exposition of the principles of civil government, 
and became " a text book of liberty for our Revolutionary 
fathers, containing some of the notable expressions that are 
used in the Declaration of Independence." 

It was on the trial of Mr. Wise in October, 1687, that 
Dudley openly declared that the people of New England 
had now no further privileges left them than not to be sold 
for slaves. Such a state of 
things in the valley of the ^ ^ 

luiphrates would not have ^^^^ft^fLf 
attracted comment : the peas- 
antry of central ICurope would have endured it until better 
instructed ; but in an luiglish community it could not last 
long. If James 11. had remained upon the throne. New 
England would surely have soon risen in rebellion against 
Andros. But the mother-country had by this time come to 
^ repent the fresh lease of life which she had granted to the 




% 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDKOS 




Stuart dynasty after Cromwell's death. Tired of the dis- 

j;racefui subser\'ience of her Court to the schemes [.-jHof 
of Louis Xr\'., tired of fictitious plots and judicial Jam""- 
iiuirtlers, tired of bloody assizes and declarations of inthit- 
yencc and all the strange devices of Stuart tyranny, Eng- 
land endured the arrogance of James but three years, and 
then drove him across the Channel, to get such consolation 
as he might from his French paymaster and patron. On 
the 4th of A])ril, 1689; the youthful John Winslow brought 
to Boston the news of the landing of the Prince of Orange 
in England. I-"or the space of two weeks there was quiet 



304 



THE liE<;i.NNiNGS OF NEW ENGLAND 



and earnest del i be rat inn among the citizens, as the success 
of tin.- !'ritii.e"> entciprise was nut yet regarded as assured. 
Hut all ;it diKv, iHi tile murniny ot the 18th, the drums beat 
In arms, the >i;;iiat-nrc was lij^hted on IJeacon HilJ, a meet- 
in}; was held ,il the Tiiw-n-IIuuse, militia began to pour in 
1,,.,.^ . ti"ni the i.iiiintry, and Andros, summoned to sur- 
!.. Liifi. iviukr, vva> t.iin to beseech .Mr. Willard and the 
;.t.-i !,.';'..« .iilier mini>teis to intercede lor him. But the 
Ai?;;"i!-,'" miiiL-teis reiii>ed. .Next day the Castle was sur- 
' '■ leii.kivd. the Rose Inyate riding in the harbour 

was >ei-i'd and diMnantle<.l, and Andros was arrested as he 




Lilly >e. 
|>e.>|-le n 
liUle Inn 
ractor>- ; 
wlui wa 



.■ tii^;;iii-cd in woman's clothes. 
i iir tvrainiv wore also impris- 
wa- ;uTi'm])lished. It marks 
fw !".ii:;latul cnlnniL's were be- 
ic the I'rince of Oransje had 
ssiied a letter instnicting the 
decorum and acquiesce yet a 
it "f Andnis, until more satis- 
^ made. Itirt Increase Mather, 
1 a mission in behalf of New 



k 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDROS 305 

England, judiciously prevented this letter of instructions 
from being sent. The zeal of the people outstripped the 
cautious policy of the new sovereign, and provisional govern- 
ments, in accordance with the old charters, were at once set 
up in the colonies lately ruled by /\ndros. Bradstreet, now 
in his eighty-seventh year, was reinstated as governor of 
Massachusetts. Five weeks after this revolution in Boston 




the order to proclaim King William and Queen Mary was 
received, amid such rejoicings as had never before been seen 
in that quiet town, for it v/zs believed that self-government 
would now be guaranteed to New England. 

This hope was at least so far realized that from the most 



3o6 THE BEGINNI-\'(;S OF NEW ENGLAND 

fonnidable dangers which had threatened it. New England 
Effects of was henceforth secured. The struggle with the 
il!tion*or Stuarts was ended, and by this second revolution 
1689 within half a century the crown had received a check 

from which it never recovered. There were troubles yet in 




store for Kngland, Init no more such outrages as the judicial 
murders of Russeli and Sidney. New ICngland had still a 
stern ordeal to go through, but never again was she to be so 
trodden down and insulted as in the days of Andros. The 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDROS 307 

efforts of George III. to rule Englishmen despotically were 
weak as compared with those of the Stuarts. In his time 
England had waxed strong enough to curb the tyrant, 
America had waxed strong enough to defy and disown him. 
After 1689 the Puritan no longer felt that his religion was 
in danger, and there was a reasonable prospect that charters 
solemnly granted him would be held sacred. William III. 
was a sovereign of modern type, from whom freedom of 
thought and worship had nothing to fear. In his theology 
he agreed, as a Dutch Calvinist, more nearly with the Puri- 
tans than with the Church of England. At the same time 
he had no great liking for so much independence of thought 
and action as New England had exhibited. In the negotia- 
tions which now definitely settled the affairs of this part of 
the world, the intractable behaviour of Massachusetts was 
borne in mind and contrasted with the somewhat less irritat- 
ing attitude of the smaller colonies. It happened that the 
decree which annulled the charters of Rhode Island and 
Connecticut had not yet been formally enrolled. It was 
accordingly treated as void, and the old charters were 
allowed to remain in force. They were so liberal that no 
change in them was needed at the time of the Revolution, 
so that Connecticut was governed under its old charter until 
18 1 8, and Rhode Island until 1842. 

There was at this time a disposition on the part of the 
British government to unite all the northern colo- ^. ^ , 

*^ ^ Need for 

nies under a single administration. The Erench "">«« 
in Canada were fast becoming rivals to be feared ; ^iTnorth- 
and the wonderful explorations of La Salle, bring- ^'•»^«>""»^'' 
ing the St. Lawrence into political connection with the Mi.s- 
sissippi, had at length foreshadowed a New France in the 
rear of all the English colonies, aiming at the control of the 
centre of the continent and eager to confine the P^nglish to 
the seaboard. Already the relations of position which led 
to the great Seven Years' War were beginning to shape 
themselves; and the conflict between France and England 
actually broke out in 1689, ^s soon as Louis XIV.'s hired 



3o8 THE BECWNNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

servant, James II., was superseded by William III. as king 
of England and head of a Protestant league. 

In view of this new state of affairs, it was thought desir- 
able to unite the northern English colonies under one head, 
so far as possible, in order to secure unity of military action. 
But natural prejudices had to be considered. The policy of 
James II. had aroused such bitter feeling in America that 
William must needs move with caution. Accordingly he did 



Ifj&m. -^JCaJfottL 




rc/JA^ 



COVKRNdRS OF I'LYMOTTH COLONY 

not seek to unite New York with New England, and he did 
not think it worth while to carry out the attack which James 
had only begun upon Connecticut and Rhode Island. As 
for New Plampshire, he seems to have been restrained by 

what in the language of modern politics would be 
Maine* and Called " prcssurc," brought to bear by certain local 
nJ^cd'to"' interests.! But in the case of the little colony 
Tttr^^^'" founded by the Pilgrims of the Mayflower there 

was no obstacle. She was now annexed to Mas- 
sachusetts, which also received not only Maine but even 

^ Doyle, Pur it aft Colonies, ii. 379, 380. 



4 



I 



/ 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDROS 309 

Acadia, just won from the French ; so that, save for the 
short break at Portsmouth, the coast of Massachusetts now 
reached all the way from Martha's Vineyard to the Gulf of 
St. Lawrence. 

But along with this great territorial extension there went 
some curtailment of the political privileges of the colony. 
By the new charter of 1692 the right of the people to be 
governed by a legislature of their own choosing was 
expressly confirmed. The exclusive right of this legisla- 
ture to impose taxes was also confirmed. But henceforth 
no qualification of church-membership, but only a property 
qualification, was to be required of voters ; the governor was 
to be appointed by the crown instead of being elected by 
the people ; and all laws passed by the legislature were to 
be sent to England for royal approval. These features of 
the new charter, — the extension, or if I may so call it, the 
secularization of the franchise, the appointment of the gov- 
ernor by the crown, and the power of veto which ,. 
the crown expressly reserved, — were grave restric- chusetts 
tions upon the independence which Massachusetts a royal 
had hitherto enjoyed. Henceforth her position was i**^"^'"^^ 
to be like that of the other colonies with royal governors. 
But her history did not thereby lose its interest or signifi- 
cance, though it became, like the history of most of the colo- 
nies, a dismal record of irrepressible bickerings between the 
governor appointed by the crown and the legislature elected 

by the people. In the 
period that began in 
1692 and ended in 
1776, the movements of Massachusetts, while restricted and 
hampered, were at the same time forced into a wider orbit. 
She was brought into political sympathy with Virginia. 
While two generations of men were passing across the 
scene, the political problems of Massachusetts were assim- 
ilated to those of Virginia. In spite of all the other 
differences, great as they were, there was a likeness in 
the struggles between the popular legislature and the royal 



^^/^f!:i^rtt.J?jCj^^, 



3!o THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND 

governor which subordinated them all. It was this simi- 
larity of experience, during the eighteenth centurj', that 
brought these two foremost colonies into cordial alliance 
during the struggle against George III., and thus made it 
possible to cement all the colonies together in the mighty 
nation whose very name is fraught with so high and earnest 
a lesson to mankind, — the United States! 

For such a far-reaching result, the temporary humiliation 
of Massachusetts was a small ])rice to pay. But it was not 
until long after the accession of William III. that things 
could be seen in these grand outlines. With his coronation 
began the struggle of seventy years between France and 
iMigland, far grander than the struggle between Rome and 
Carthage, two thousand years earlier, for primacy in the 
world, for the prerogative of determining the future career of 

mankind. That warfare, so fraught with meaning, 
t)t the was waged as mucli upon American as upon r.uro- 

k"v( hiHon 1^^'^^"' ground ; and while it continued, it was plainly 
ahea.iv f^j- ^\^f^ jiitcrcst of the l^itish jxovcrnment to pur- 

sue a conciliatory policy toward its American colo- 
nies, for without their whole-hearted assistance it could have 
no hoi)c .^f success. As soon as the struggle was ended, 
and the French power in the colonial world finally over- 
thrown, the perpetual quarrels between the popular legisla- 
tures and the royal governors led immediately to the Stamp 
Act and the other measures of the British government that 
brought about the American revolution. People sometimes 
argue about that revolution as if it had no past behind it 
and was simply the result of a discussion over abstract prin- 
ciples. We can now see that while the dispute involved an 
abstract principle of fundamental importance to mankind, 
it was at the same time for Americans illustrated by memo- 
ries sufficiently concrete and real. James Otis in his prime 
was no further distant from the tyranny of Andros than 
middle-aged men of to-day are distant from the Missouri 
Compromise. The sons of men cast into jail along with 
John Wise may have been among those who stood silent in 



THE TYRANNY OF ANDROS 311 

the moonlight on Griffin's Wharf and looked on while the 
contents of the tea-chests were hurled into Boston harbour. 
In the events we have here passed in review, it may be 
seen, so plainly that he who rims may read, how the spirit 
of 1776 was foreshadowed in 1689. 




HIMLIOGRArmCAL NOTK 

An iiiierotini: Account ot the Harims* War and the meeting of the 
first House •>! C«)mnion> i> '^\\v:n in t'rothcro's SiiHOH i£e A/onffori^ 
London. 1^77. I 'or Wycllt ;uul the Lollards, see Milman's Latin 
Lhnstuini:\ . vol. \ii. 

The tccU^iasiic.d history or I'.ic Tudor period may l>est be studied 
in the works ot Jo! in Strv])i-. tn \\\\, HistorUal Mt'woi'itt/s, 6 vols.; 
AntttiJs 0/ ff'u- A\/i'i ff:.!**:ofi. 7 Mils.: /-/:vj of Lrannter, ParJtt'r^ li'kit- 
•^irt^ L- : c . . O x 1 1 1 id . i > r 2 - 2 ^ . S c.- c also H ur n 1 's History of t/te Ht'J'op'-- 
ff: ittit'u .'/ t>u C V; .7 t^i: ,>/ /'."//:,•.' : a'< /. 3 vols.. London, i ' »r«>- 1 7 1 5 ; X e al's 
///.t/r'/r «'/.'/'.■. /'//yv/i .'«.». Loiidoii. 1703; Tulloch. /.cv/^yc'ri- <?/'/y&^ AVy&r- 
w<//.''.'/.'. ilostoM. iS;i). A \...st MM<s i»i intcrcsiin;;^ information is to be 
tounc in /'•'. /<.//.• /; At//./ ^. .■.■■.. i^'.^/y/^- ///f Corrt's/tofit/t'm'e' of' Se'7'tmi/ 
/•.■/:/./»/.' /.';.' ./^,. .;;;.. '", V'.i ; ». :.;.'.'. ».//.v of tiw Hilvetiati K*fo?'9?iers^ 
p'.il'iislicii 1\ ::;c I'.ukvr >iHii:\. 4 vol>., Camhrid^jo. Iinjj., 1845—46. 
lIoi'kir'> /." .' .»;..•. .': .;.' /' .';.*; w.i.-* iHil)li>lu'ii in London, 1594: a new 
r<liii"!i. co'/.i::/!iL; iw" .L<Mi:;on.il l'Oolv>. the first complete edition, was 
imbli-^b.L-'! i.i I' -J.:. 

Lor ihe 1:= !i. r.il 'li^iiMy «m l-.M^Kiii'.l in the soventt-enth century-, there 
.ire t\v.. Mioii- i'-. "..'ikN wiiirh ^t \\\y\ f.ir .ihovc all others. — Gardiner's 
i/:^;.r\ ■' /•>.\'r\ \: \.U.. 1.. < ■:!..; i, nS3 ->4 : and .Mas.son"s Z//5' /i/" 
.1//.'.' '■.'./•■.•'■■■.' •■ . './;.'; V :. ■.■.'•". :-\ /'o.\'/t\\:/, Kccli'siastica/^ antf 
I.Hif.it'. //■..',> . / '".« //v., (1 \oN.. c'ambridije. Eng.. 1S59--80. 
'I'lio : an- 'mi.i',.^ l! :iiil\ • ^.lll■«^^.ll riuiliiion. and written in a spirit of 
jiniii.ial i.iirnt -^. Mr. t l.ii^iir.i r> leii voliiiiKs cover the forty years 
Irom ihi' aiv»>'^:.'-. oi" l.inii.-^ 1. i«» tin Kiiinnin^ of the Civil War, 
i'^;3-i''43. Ml. (..iriiiur l.a-* l.ittlv pulilishud tlie four volumes of 
ir-- l.i>*j)r\ • 1 "li'.- ("ivii \\'.:r. lollnwol I'V t!ie liist vi»lunie of his History 
"f' r/'.t' <."'■;//'■ /. :. ..■.//!, aiiii i: i^ ti« In- lu»iK-d tliat he will not stop until 
lie r- .u in-N i!i.- .1. i e^^io 1 ui Wiili.ini aiul Mary. Indued, such books 
i> lii> ou'.^iii Ml vi I' to su)j). .M\ iiiend and collea;4Ue. Prof. Hosmer.. 
ii lU inc til. It Mr. < ".^iiiliiur i.-* a lineal tlcscendant t>f Cromwell and 
In.ton. Hi^ little l)o«.k. //■«■ I'untan Ixc'ohttiou.xw the ** Epochs of 
Ili-torv*" >crii>. i> exirenieh u.M'hil. and aloni; with it one should 
reail .Airy"^ ki:,- l\i:-Ji<ii lusfoi^rfiofi .intf /.oz/ix A'//'., in tlie same 
series. New York. i.ss-;. The he.st liiotjraphy of Cromwell is by Mr. 
Allan.stMi !*iMon/ London. |SS2: ^re al.Mi Krcderic Harrison's Crow- 
ur//. London. |S8S. ;in excellent little book. .Mr. (Jardiner has lately 



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 313 

published Cromwell's Place in History y London, 1897. Hosmer's 
Young Sir Henry Vane^ Boston, 1888, should be read in the same 
connection; and one should not forget Carlyle's Cromwell. See 
also Tulloch, English Puritanism and its Leaders ^ 1861, and Rational 
Tluology and Christian Philosophy in England in the Sei/enteenth 
Century, 1872; Skeats, History of the Pree Churches of England, 
London, 186S ; Mountfield, The Church and Puritans, London, 1881. 
Dexter's Congregationalism of the Last Three Hundred Years, New 
York, 1880, is a work of monumental importance. 

On the histor)' of New England the best general works are Palfrey, 
History of JVew England, 5 vols., Boston, 1858-90; and Doyle, The 
English in America — The Puritan Colonies ^ 2 vols., London, 1887. 
In point of scholarship Dr. Palfrey's work is of the highest order, and 
it is written in an interesting style. Its only shortcoming is that it 
deals somewhat too leniently with the faults of the i*uritan theocracy, 
and looks at things too exclusively from a Massachusetts point of 
view. It is one of the best histories vet written in America. Mr. 
Doyle's work is admirably fair and impartial, and is based throuj^hout 
upon a careful study of original documents. The author is a Fellow 
of All Souls College, Oxford, and has apparently made American his- 
tory his specialty. His work on the Puritan colonies is one of a series 
which when completed will cover the whole story of English coloni- 
zation in America, i have looked in vain in his pages for any remark 
or allusion indicating that he has ever visited America, and am therefore 
inclined to think that he has not done so. He now and then makes a 
slight error such as would not be likely to be made by a native of New 
England, but this is very seldom. The accuracy and thoroughness of 
its research, its judicial temper, and its philosopliical spirit make Mr. 
Doyle's book in some respects the best that has been written about 
New England. 

Among original authorities we may begin by citing John Smith's 
Description of Xew England, 161 6, and New England's Trial, 1622, 
contained in Arber's new edition of Smith's works, London, 1884. 
Bradford's narrative of the founding of IMymouth was for a long time 
supposed to be lost. Nathaniel Morton's Xeiv England's Memorial^ 
published in i66<), was little more than an abridgment of it. After two 
centuries Bradford's manuscript was discovered, and an excellent 
edition by Mr. Charles Deane was published in the Massachusetts His- 
torical Collections, 4th series, vol. iii., 1856. A beautiful facsimile of 
the manuscript has lately been published, with an introduction by J. 
A. Doyle, London, kSc/). Edward Winslow's /<;//r///// of the Proceed- 
ings of the English Plantation settled at Plymouth, 1622, and Good 
News from New England, 1624, are contained, with other valuable 
materials, in Young's Chronicles of the Pilgrim E'athers, Boston, 1844. 



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 315 

ing the period covered by the first volume of his history. Many price- 
less documents perished in the shameful sacking of his house by the 
Boston rioters, Aug. 26, 1765. The second volume of Hutchinson's 
History was continued to 1764 by G. R. Minot, 2 vols., 1798, and to 
1820 by Alden Bradford, 3 vols., 1822-29. ^^ recent works, the best 
is Barry's History of Massachusetts, 3 vols., 1855-57. Many original 
authorities are collected in Young's Chronicles of Massachusetts^ 
Boston, 1846. Cotton Mather's Magnalia Christi Americana, Lon- 
don, 1702 (reprinted in 1820 and 1853), though crude and uncritical, 
is full of interest. 

The Colonial Laius of Massachusetts^ including the Body of Liberties, 
have been published in facsimile from the original editions by W. H. 
Whitmore, in two handsome volumes, Boston, 1887-89, giving us all 
the legislation from 1641 to 1686. 

Many of the early Massachusetts documents relate to Maine. Of 
later books, especial mention should be made of Folsom*s History of 
Saco and Biddeford, Saco, 1830; Willis's History of Portland^ 2 vols., 
1831-33 (2d ed. 1865); Memorial Volume of the Popham Celebration^ 
Portland, 1862; Chamberlain's Maine y Her Place in History, Augusta, 
1877. On New Hampshire the best general work is Belknap's History 
of New Hampshire, 3 vols., Phila., 1784-92; the appendix contains 
many original documents, and others are to be found in the New Hamp- 
shire Historical Collections, 8 vols., 1824-66. 

The Connecticut Colonial Records are edited by Dr. J. H. Trumbull, 
12 vols., 1850-82. The Connecticut Historical Society's Collections, 
1860-70, are of much value. The best general work is Trumbull's 
History of Connecticut, 2 vols., Hartford, 1797. See also Stiles*s An- 
cient Windsor, 2 vols,, 1859-63; Cothren's Ancient Woodbury, 3 vols., 
1854-79. Of the Pequot War we have accounts by three of the prin- 
cipal actors. Mason's History of the Pequod War is in \k\^ Mass. Hist. 
Coll., 2d. series, vol. viii. ; I'mlerhill's Neivs from America is in the 3d 
series, vol. vi.; and Lyon Gardiner's narrative is in the 3d series, vol. 
iii. In the same volume with Underhill is contained A True Relation 
of the late Battle foui^ht in New Eni^land between the English and the 
Pequod Saiui^^es, by Philip X'incent, London, 1638. The New Haven 
Colony Records are edited by C. J. Hoadly, 2 vols., Hartford, 1857-58. 
See also the New Haven Historical Society s Papers, 3 vols., 1865-80; 
Lambert's History of New Haven, 1838; Atwater's History of New 
Haven, 1881 ; Levermore's AV/«/^//V- of New Haven, Baltimore, 1886; 
Johnston's Connecticut, Boston, 1887. The best account of the Blue 
Laws is by J. H. Trumbull, The True Blue Laws of Connecticut and 
New Haven, and the Praise Blue Laws invented by the Rev. Samuel 
Peters, etc., Hartford, 1876. See also Hinman's Blue Laws of New 
Haven Colony, Hartford, 1838; Barber's History and Antiquities of 



3I(» BIltLlOCRAPHICAL NOTE 

AW.' Hunn, i«3i ; I'eiers's Ilhloiy 0/ Coniieitkut, London, 1781. 
'I'lii; story o( tin- regicides is set forth in Stiles's History of the Three 
Juilges. Iliirlfiird. 1794; see also tlie Matlu-r Papers in Mass. Hist, 

(W/., 41I1 series, vol. viii. 

llie Rhode Island Colonial Records are edited by J. R. IJarUett, 7 
vols., iS5(t.(>^, One of tlie lH.'st .state histnries ever written Is that of 
S. O. Aniiilil. /fii/ory of the Slale of Rli.tle Island and Pra%mlence 
I'lanlalions, 1 vols.. New \'(>rk, i,S5<^(ffl. Many valuable documents 
are rijiriiitwl in tlie Rhode Island Historieal Sini,/y's Collections. 
The Uisloiy i;/".\Vr.' Enalaiid. willi /•arli: ulor leferenee to tlie deiiam- 
illation .oiled lla/'lisls.'hy kev. js;iai. Bui k us. 3 vols.. 1777-96, has 
mueli tluit is valuable ri-latiiiK to Klioik- IsUnil. Tlie s<.-ries id Rhode 
Island llislorieal I'ra.li. issued since 1S7S ity -Mr. S. S. Rider, Is of 
.!;reat merii. l;io;;ni|)liies of Koyer Williams have lieeii written by J. 
1). Knowk^. 1S34; by William (lainmell. [S4_:; ; by Konieo Elton, 1853; 
aii<l byt). S, Sirau.'i. iN94. Williams's works have bei-n republished 
l.y till-' Naria.;;.iiiselt ("liil. in (. vols.. i.S*^,. The first Volume contains 
tlie valuable K.vr.' tlh- I/idiai!l.aiij:na,;esofAoieric.i.KAitcd by Dr. 
Tniiiibull Willi.iins's vi.-tts <if relii;i<ius liberty are set forth in his 
nioudv reneiil oi l'ei:-.e,utioH. [-■niiluri. 1(144: t.i which John Cotton 
replii'i'l in In,- IHondv l;-„e,il r.-oslied and made White in the Blood of 
the l.aoiK l.oiirlnn. 1I147 : Willi^ims-MVJoiniier was entitled The Jiloudy 
r.iieiil m.iileyel owe lU.'iiJy /liif'U:;h Mr. Cotton n allempt to Wash 
it While. I. loll. iipi.:. 111!' loiiliimrsy was i:onducte(I 011 both s'.les 

other ]iriii.i|-al iM.iks. f,V.;i,,'- l-o.i di::,:ed oiit 0/ his IlurroTi-es. Itnston, 
l(i7'i: /lireiin^ .Mi'ii^liv n.me ol Chri'^l' s. London. 11.5;: and Christen- 
in_i^i moke not Chii^lioiK. 104;: ,ti[tiii.inly indicate their character. 
The l.i>l-ii,ii.uii ir.ut wa> ili,-;. ov. re.l in the iiiiti.sh Mii.seum by Dr. 
iJixr.rau.l .ilil.d \.\ him in Ki.l.rs /la.t.-. No. xlv.. l8«l. The treat- 
in. iil .,f ICo-i-r William, l.i th,- .^oVL-niruein of Massachu-setts Is elalxj- 
,,U.U di-, iiss,.i ill neyler-.(> t.' Ro^i Williom.s, Doslon. 1876. See 
alsoi;, 1:. l-.lli, 0.1 -The Trealiiiriil ..( Iiitrud, is ami Dissentients by 
ll„- E .muiUr- ot Ma.sa. husells." in /.ou-ell /.e. Ime.,. lloston. l^^j. 

-\-\u- ..i-. oi Mr>. Ilntdiin-on is (ieal>d. iVoin a ho^tile .md some- 
wli.il in.ciil.nt l..)iiil 0I view, in Thoiuas Welili's |iam|ililet entitled 
. I .^V■■..</ .vy... T ,-/■ ///,- Rise. Re/^o. and R:,ii, rl' Anlimmions. lamil- 
i..t<. o,,d l.iheeti,:es that i'lle.h;! the Chmelies ,., .\Wc Eni^laiid. Lon- 
don, ic.t4. h «as answered in an ano.iyinoiis |iani[)lilet entitled Mer- 
.iiriiii Ameri.aiui^. r.]nil.Ii.shed for the I'lin. e Society, Boston, 1S76. 
wiih jiri-l^iLory notice by C II. Bell. Cotton's view of ihc theocracy 
iii.i\ be seen 'in his .UilA- iW lUhe-:. dr.n.-n out of the Jlreasts of both 
reslameols. E.oiidoii. 1646; AVnv ,-/ //„■ Ki„.;doin of He.iven ; and 
Woy ni the C.'ii::re,:,ition,il C/uinhes Cleared, j.oiuloi). 1648. See also 



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 317 

Thomas Hooker's Survey of the Summe of Church Discipline, London, 
1648. The intolerant spirit of the time finds quaint and forcible ex- 
pression in Nathaniel Ward's satirical book, The Simple Cobler of 
Aggawam, 1647. 

For the Gorton controversy the best original authorities are his 
own book entitled Simplicitie^s Defence against Se^'en-headed Polity, 
London, 1646; and Winslow's answer tn\.\i\ti\ Hypocracie Unmasked^ 
London, 1646. See also Mackie's Life of Samuel Gorton, Boston, 
1845; Jancs's Samuell Gorton, Providence, 1896, and Brayton's De- 
fence of Samttel Gorton, in Rider's Tracts, No. xvii. 

For the early history of the Quakers, see Robert Barclay's /////^r Z{i^ 
of the Religious Societies of the Commonwealth, London, 1876, — an 
admirable book. See also New England a Degenerate Plant, 1659; 
Bishop's New England judged by the Spirit of the Lord, 1661 ; Sewel's 
History of the Quakers, 1722 ; Besse's Sufferings of the Quakers, 1753 ; 
The Popish Inquisition newly erected in Ne7u England, London, 1659 5 
The Secret IVorks of a Cruel People made Manifest, 1 659 ; and the 
pamphlet of the martyrs Stevenson and Robinson, entitled A Call from 
Death to Life, 1660. John Norton's view of the case was presented in 
his book, The Heart of New England Rent at the Plasphemies of the 
Present Generation, London, 1660. See also J. S. Pike's New Puritan, 
New York, 1879 ; Hallowell's Pioneer Quakers, Boston, 1887 ; and his 
Quaker Invasion of Massachusetts, Boston. 1883 ; Brooks Adams, The 
Emancipation of Massachusetts, Boston, 1887; Ellis, The Puritan 
Age and Rule, Boston, 1888 ; Rogers, Mary Dyer, the Quaker Martyr, 
Providence, 1896. 

Some additional light upon the theocratic idea may be found in a 
treatise by the apostle Eliot, The Christian Commonwealth ; or, the 
Civil Polity of the Rising Kingdom of Jesus Christ, London, 1 659. An 
account of Eliot's missionary work is given in The Day breaking, if 
not the Sun rising, of the Gospel with tlu Indians in N'ew England, 
London, 1647 ; and 7 he Glorious Progress of the Gospel amongst the 
Indians in New England, 1649. See also Shepard's Clear Sunshine 
of the Gospel breaking forth upon the Indians, 1648 ; and Whitfield's 
Light appearing more and more towards the Perfect Day, 165 1 . 

The principal authority for Philip's war is Hubbard's Present State 
of N^ew England, being a Narrative of the Troubles with the Indians, 
1677. Church's Entertaining Passages relating to Philip's War, pub- 
lished in 1 716, and republished in 1865, with notes by Mr. Dexter, is 
a charming book. See also Mrs. Rowlandson's True History, Cam- 
bridge, Mass., 1682; ^\AX\\tx\ Brief History of the War, 1676; Drake's 
Old Indian Chronicle, Boston, 1836; Gookin's Historical Collections of 
the Indians in A^ew England, 1674; and Account of the Doings and 
Sufferings of the Christian Indians, in Archceologia Americana, vol. ii. 



318 IJIULIOGKAPHICAL NOTK 

Bat\.en'i< /o/ir/ia/ is ihc <tiarv of a citii^cn nf lloston, sent to England. 
and is now in MS. amoiic'lhe Co!,mi,il F,ip,r.t. .Mrs. Mary E'raj-'s 
Ictttr (l.)i;t. ;o. 1(175) is in Mass. ffi.it. Coll.. jtli series, vol. 1. p. 105. 

Tlie great storoliimse of iiiformaiion for tlie Andios period is tlie 
Aiiitros Tnu/s. 3 vol.s., editi-d for llie I'rince Society by W. H. Wliit- 
moru. See also Suwairs J>i,ny. M.ris. Ilhl. Coll.. 5t1i series, vols. 
v,-viii. .Seu'ali has iMJi-n ii]i]jnipriately called l!ie I'uritan Pepys. His 
ijoiik is ;i mirror of tlie slate of soincty In .Massachusetts at the time 
wlien it was ln'^innin;; to l>e felt thai iht old theocratic Idea had been 
Irieil in tliL- balance and foinid waiitin^. There is a wonderful charm 
insutha book. It makes one feel as if one had really "been there'" 
and taken jiart in the homely scenes, full of human interest, which it so 
iiaVvelv portiavs. Aiiiio Kradstreel's works h.-ive been edited by J. H. 
Kllis. Charlcslovvn. iSf,;. 

Ki>r further references ami dalioralc bililicii;raphical dJ.sciissionF^, see 
^\'iTlsor's Xarr.Uh;- .in J < V///, ,;/ Hhlory of . Im,-ri,,i. v(,\. iii. ; and his 
Mfmori.il IlUoiy of Ho.sloii. 4 \ols., Kostoii. iSSo. 'I'here is a good 
iiccoiiu! of (hv (iiiLicip.il New llns;lazid writers of the seventeenth cen- 
tury, wiih ill list r.it JVC extracts, in Tyler's IILloiy of Aiiiiruaji Lilera- 
/ii'Y. 2 vols.. New York. i.-^jS. For extracts see niso the first two vol- 
nm.sof Sledmaii .ni.l ihil.hinson's /.//v„^t .-/" . /w-jvV,:)/ /.i/i;,U,i>r. 
New Vurk. |S.S,S. 

In coiichi-iiun I would observe ih.it town hisiories. thou;;li seldom 
written in a pliilusi>]ihie.il spirit and apt to be ([iiile amorphou.>i in 
slvnitnre. are a mine uf wealth fot the philosophic student of history. 



INDEX 



{ 



» 



I t 

1. « 




INDEX 



Abolitionists and Kepublicanit, 6i. 

Acadia, 3 ^. 

Achaiaii league, 19. 

Adam.H, C. t., 122, note. 

AdamSf Samuel, iii, 1.6, 1H8, 273. 

Adoption, absorpiiiju of savage tribes by, 237. 

Aitolian league, 19. 

Albigense*, t, ?, v^ 

Alexander (Wamsuila), 23S. 

Alexandria, 5. 

Alfred, 15; j:K)rtrait, 15. 

Alf^onquin New Testament, Eliot's, facsimile 
tltle-pai;e of, 231. 

Allyn, John, 29*^; autograph, 299. 

Alsace, j2. 

Anabapi.jls, 198. 

Anrtover, 262. 

Andrew, Sir E., 297, 305; portrait and auto- 
graph, ^o?. 

Andros, Lady, 301. 

Aniinomians, i2^>-i3o, 143, i^.s, 176, 1^1, j;6. 

Applelon, Major Samuel, 252 ; autograi)h, 25.'. 

Aquedncck, i2f>. 177. 

Aquinas, i''. 

Archiiecture, ( lOthic, i'>. 

Armada, the Invincible, 56, '.5, loS. 

Armagnacs, 29. 

Arminius, 20. 

Arnold, Benedict, qovernor of Rhode Island. 
iXr. 

Arnold, Matthew, \(^\. 

AmoM, Simncl Cireene, 170. 

Arnold. VV'IM-im, iX|. 

Arrival of WinthropN colony in Boston Har- 
bour, i'>S. 

Artaxf-rxr<;. 1 1. 

Anindel, K.>rl c»f. 121. 

Ashawonk<i. squaw ^;ich«-'m. 2'')4. 

A-=sistant"i. Hoard of, i<-j, wz. 134; disagree- 
m«-nt with (IffMit-es. 114, 115, I'^h, 21?, 213. 

A'i*«owam'-clt Pond, 242. 

Assyria. '<. 10. I-". 

Atheism, charges of, 05. 

Attika, 10 

Au'^ustMie, I'm. of HitMV), 4. 

Ancu'>ti»if, nii'<'-i(>narv to P.ritain. 22. 

Aust'Tti"' '. ;^ : map showin.; position of, 50. 

Ausf-rfi 'Id church, \iew of, 64. 

Au-tin. \iuu-, .»<>•>. 

Au-stin lious<> ill ( " inihridcrr, 271. 

Avi^^non, exile (>f po|«.'s at, 5, 2S. 

Baron, I.^'onaril, ?>?. 

Uk.oii, S-r Nicholas, 5';. 

Bicon, Kiiixi-r, i'>. 

Haitti<.ts. iM'rsecution of, ii;2-2t>o. 

H irons' War, 2'->. 

Hattcn'«i journal. 24!^. 

Baxter. Kichard. 174. 

**Bay Bsalm liook," facsimile title-page of, 171. 



Beers, Captain, 246. 

Bellingham, Richard, 20S; autograph, 20X. 

Benedict, M., 15, 

Bernuulas, 174. 

Bible, Kiioi's, 2*30. 

Bible, English version (-f, 4^-30. 

B>ible, King Jame>'s, facsimile title-page of, 47. 

r.lack, Joseph. i(''). 

lilackstone, Wilham, 9(^>. no; autograph, 9<j. 

lUaine, J. (•.. 2.v*- 

Blair education bill, 12. 

Blake, Rob'.Ti, i2(). 

IJloody lirook, 247, 24<>. 

Blue Law>. 14S. 

Body of Lilu-rties, 277. 

B.o<;oniiliaus, 32. 

r.ohcniia, 34. 

I'lonitace, St., 15. 

I'.osni 1, ^4. 

Boston, Lincolnshire, 3^. iiS. 

Iu>ston, Mass., 3}<. n;.. 1.^7. 1S2. iS^; oldest 

house in. 277: i)o)inlalion in ifiSo.aSO; first 

Town-f lousi- if. ;'s. 
I'<^stiit\ Neik. old view of, i v- 
l'.o>,v\ orlli. battle of. lo*'. 
Iloto'ph's, St . 11;. I I "<. 
I'radtlof k's 1! fc.it, 7 ;>. 
I^r.trlford. Wi'li iin. '■^, '..,. S), ^^s, ^'i, .),?. 
HraHfiird. \S'illi.\ni, the nouiic-i, .'i^.'. 
Bradford's Manu'-crij't llisiorv, fat simile of 

t'lr-t 11 \'.:e. ' *^, '"-i. 
I'.i .iflstr< I't. \nii''. 2'*<p, 2Cio\ avitocraph. 2^-). 
BiadsfM-.t. Simon, .r^^ ■.•■'''. .^"S • portr.iit and 

.iiitf-jraph, :!^). 
r.ranfi'vd, 1 i',. 
I'.r'rrtfiTr> " r.fiffe and Trui- Rcl.uion," fac- 

->im If till'--i>.>;'i- of. 71. 
I'.rcvxstrr. Wi'M im. <-\. 07, f^.), S;., S^; aulu- 

'jr-u^h. '1^; Ti'sidi nee at Scrooby, (17. 
I'.I id _'f wafer, _•'>*<. 

Bridchaiii hoiis." in I>orchester, 177. 
Britain, l',ir.ilish roiupiest of, 22, 2V 
r.r<) k"'. Lord, 132. 
Brookri'-l<l. .'1^. 2 14- -'''• 
Browno. K<.l>ert. <i-'-, ; .lutograph, f>i. 
I'rvf •■. I inu's. 2 

I'ui kin..dr\m, I)ukeof. '>2, 104, l<>^. 
Bn(klf. H. r.. i'.r>. 
B'Mi\aji, John. 4t;, \2\. iot. 27.'. 
Fiunjhl<\-. Lord, k,u, (m , ^3 ; jiorirait and auto- 

gr.uih. I-;. 
Buniundi..n<s, Lrench party, 20- 
r>uri;iindi.\ns, trilx-, 22. 
Burns, R«>bort. i'*/*. 
Byzantine empire, 2. 

C.Tsar, C. J., 4, 7. i'^ 2V 
I '.-xl verts in Maryland, ifx;. 
Calvin, John, 51-54; portrait and autograpli, 
50. 



3-2 



INDKX 



I 
f 

t 



i-' 



t 



• 

I 



(.'arnbrid;;!-, Knp.. 5^, iiS; mi-ctiii); of Puri- 
C-.inil-ri»lj:e. .Ma». (New Tnwn. n-i. in, i.*4. 

1'^:;), 1(0: li.Ulir diai'.'^i. (1. 11^: All:<till lit>l|Nf 

in. .'71 ; I.i-'- luni".- III. .'ff,. 
Ciiniiiitl-jo I'i.itfcriii, ]<;.- ; iatsimili- liilc-].'.rji- 

(l.liii<ii«.lirt, .'\"'-2'\y Jf;2. 
( '.iiumiiii'-. ^7. 
l\l|H: \lili, ■:\, ',': 

Cip- (■'■i|. •., -\, *•!. 

t ".»}'■• h.li/.ii.-ilh. 7^. 



<.«»ni«.ril, Intli.m villaKP near, 2.^3. 

ruiifLiIi-racy, the Nt-w Kiijiiaiid, itt7-22s,; lis 
nni«iitiiti(iii, 172; it^ wfakni:s<. 173; iis fi)r- 
iiKitioii tiiMilvcd a t.uit nssumptinn of so\er- 
ei:;nty. 17.?, 31.;: wi-akciii-d b> Mipprc>sion 
I't Ni'W H.ivi ii, 2j(.. 

(.'I'li^i' .;ati<iii.Ui-jn and hclf-j;ovirninen'.. j;r. 

l"oiii!<'« liciit, fiiuiidiii^ of, i'^.!-i4«i. 27'i; its pl.ite 
ill Aiiii ritaii liisimA-. 140: i<btaiiis a chartir. 
2J.t : p.ui V r-'cijidcd, ji/; ; liiddtrn, 2'^}; ri.'. 

>t"rrti. (■■7. 



'• t'.iptiv i:\ ," Mi^. KowI.ir.clioir.N. laLsiniilc I'oniii rjn nt livn. l)uti:li map f>f. 132. 



lit ■■■I'.i.: ■ iif. .'H I. 
( ail '"i-. I ail t>!, \2i. 
( aik l( . I lii'ina^, i.|^. 
( .K-l'.i- r.l.iii I, 1 •.'. i'-4 
tat.il».i:tit., I,". 
I .itli iii, :.» ; J. ^5 
< .iilio.il>- • \i iiiili II fri:n H' u--.- <■{ (."oiniiii'ii^, 

-•7> : niiii.'ii- vvi;:i •,»■.!. ik-i -. -i j. 

( .1. inil]-.h, 'I Ii.,|i:.i . :' 

( ■ ■ii'.iiiv. fit;li. .■.■ ; ■■■\\\\\. .-.' . tliiriiiiilli, i'' . 

-■4. ■,•■ ^ '. m; :".ii'i ti.tli. -■'■* ; tiii'.' i.ili, J- . 

•".Vfiit- ' "iih, ■ . ... 
t li'.ii'l ' "■ <I.-: -i 1. 1 '.l-ii. Mili.iwl;:!. /J!;. 

t ii.ll • - I 111- li!-..il, ., I ., .' J 

C I..11 ii *^ I . I J. I ■. I < ; i ■;, I ■■ I .'.■•, I ji., I 74. 

I" ■- .'."■. .',■■; ;■ -I'.! lii .1 ■ '. \-,:"j\.\\'\ , i< ;. 
C 1 .11 ir II. I .■• .. .• I ; .' : , ■■■..- ^. .'.■ J . . ■ ■. 

2 1. -■'» I. ■•-,.■.'..■.-•..■ .4. .-/•. ;■■:::.!. : r.,>. 

. u'l ..1.1 'I-. .': ■ 
C! -.1 ■ ■ 1 '.. -. -.-.. .-. 
' 1 . I '1 • i(.-.\r . 1 |.- I /.» 
L\ 'It. r -.I.I" :■. ! »;■ » . r-.; .ii--, ■•{ M \ 



t-|--| _•■■ 1,1 --- -•■...■■-I ■•! ■•■ ■ ■ -■■ -1.---1- 

■ r \.\\. . ■■. I. ■ ; ■• r. i. 1- ; : ■ N- A t .' ! .1 .'. I . M ., 2 ■.'.. 

i:i-. .":..• r: I ..■ I..; I . I ! ..• i. «■.-:■.!:..- 1,. -.. 

:■;•.!■ r-i ...::■ ..-. ; . I ::>■ 1. • 
'•■I- , ;..! - • • .'I ..II- ., ■ V 1 ' .!• , 
II ...:.;"■. . : ■■: i :^ ■-•,■■ :■ 
1 ' ■ ".I","- ■! ■ •. W -.' : I . |.i" '■! r • . ; ■ 

'■ ■ ' ' i. -• • " . ■ . .. 
I •■■ I ■ • I IL . I ■.'■•:■ .!■•.. I !.-.i'- 



( IH'piT. J I ., .'15. 

ri'Tji'iflii- Cf*|"Mi'iil'iiity. i^b, 24**. 
t Ml ii". .'^[■■.ini-^li. j^. 

Icl!"!;. .Ii-!ii . ii'*, i-"7. i?S, n4. 145. 146, ifit, 
I I- 1. .'■■-• . Iii^ \ii.\i.ii:L 111 tii-.;laiid, 117; iv-»r- 
ii.iii .Mid .ii:iiiL.M.ipli. i?i : facvimiie nf liile- 
pi^:. •:! Lis ".spiritual Miik lor ):if>i(<u 
i;i' .-.•■ i-->^. 
'i-M.i-l In: Ml w l.n.:*.aiid. -.12, 121: ^cal, 121. 
iiii.iv iiiiiiiiii:'», _•<. 
<'\'i.iii: I I .;ra«'.- ainj of works, 127. 
< \i i,::\. Urtiv. ."• 1- 
"■ ' I'l.i •■. .M :U:s, \i 

\.u'.-'\ k li ■ii-t ill .Mi'lfnrd, I'll. 

:.lii'-.i . Ii'liii. i-i5. I>^^, i-/g. 

: ii.li-l.i. I -l-.v ..I.i. ."-7. 

:.:r: Mil. < >.!\..i. 7, V;- 4'. ■»>! 4'». 5»i 57» '-^S 

I t .. !>■• '7 1. i7''« ■''-'. --■'. -5'''. 2*|4. i-**"^. 

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INDEX 



323 



Diocletian. 14. 

Dixwell, John, 212, 223; autograph, 223. 
Dorchester, Kncj. , 97. 

Dorchester, Mass., no, 122, i34» '35. '3'' J 
Minot house in, i6.^; liridgham hou>e in, 

»77- 
Dorchester adventurer.^, 96. 

Dorset, 57. 'Kj- 

Dover, N. H., 129, 2S7. 

Doyle, J. A., i.s8, 2S2, 2S4, notes. 

Drake, Sir F., 56: iwrtrait and autograph, 

Dudley, Lord (luilftird, 10 j. 

Dudley, JosL-ph, jS^, 2S<», 290, 294, 297, 301, 

302,304; p»)rlrait and autojiraph, 28s- 
Dudley, Robert, Earl oi Leicester, lot*, 2^>. 
Dudley, Thomas, 109, no, 2S5 ; autograph. 

10-7. 
Dunbar, battle of, 153, 221. 
Dunster, Heiir\', 2y> 
Dutch, S4, ''5, »32. '''^. 175- ■J'24- 
Dyer, .NLirv, 214, 215, 217. 
Dyer, William, autograph, 214. 

East Anglia, heresy in, 57; contributions to 
the Puritan ex<Klu<, ^7, 154; familiar look to 
a New Enplander, 5.^. 

East Greenwich, manor of. 1.S7. 

Eaton, Theophilus, 14^. 

Ecclesi.ihiical l>ej;innings of NLissachusetts, 
IIS, • i'^- 

" Ecclesia^t^cal Polity," by Richard Hooker. 

59- 
Edinburgh, 167. 

P'.ducation, popular, 164. 

Edward L, lU, 30; ix)rtrait, 17- 

Edward IL, 3^. 

Edward II L, ^6. 

Edward IV., 5S. 

Eliot, Sir John, lo^j, 107. 

Eliot, John, apostle, 229-234, 237. 23S, 26s: 

facsimile title-page of his Algonquin New 

Testament, 231; chair belonging to, 231;: 

portrait, 2 \h. 
Elizabeth, V, 5', 5--5'>, 59-''3i ''5 • conversii- 

tion with a Kuly of the court, 54 ; i>ortrait 

and autogr.iph, 53. 
Elizabeth l:>lands, 73. 
Ellis, (ieorgc, 217. 
Emmanuel Coll«'ge, iiS, 2S.S. 
Empire, Holv Roman. 2-4. i('. 2S. 
Endicoll, John. 'jS, 101, 102. no, 11-5, 125, i6'), 

202,210,211, 213, 214. 216, 21X, 22<> ; ix»r- 

tr.iii, 212. 
England, imnortance of part played by her in 

seventecntn centur\', 30, 44-4'.i; union with 

Scotland, iS ; church of, 37. 
English methcMl of nation-making, 17-3'); na- 
ture of Puritan exodus. 153. 
Episcopal worship fi>rbidden in Massachusetts. 

n'>, 2*<S; introduced by Andros, 29<». 3<>o. 
Episcopius, ^»9. 
Erasmus, (m:>. 
K^>ex, county of, 3'<. 
Essex, Karl of. iji. 

Ethic^il nature of the Puritan ideal, i^i. 
Exeter, N. H.. 129, 2^7. 

Fairbanks house in Dedham, if. 9. 
Fairf.ix. Sir T., 14;. 
Fairti-.'ld, 144. 

Faithful, in " Pilgrim's Piogress." i';7. 
Faini'ist"*, 177. 

Federal Commi.ssioners in 1075, autograplis of, 
347- 



Federal Convention of 1788, 140. 

Federalism, pacific tendency of, 18, 19. 

Ferdinand ot Aragon, 4, 51. 

Feudalism, its destruction. 28. 

Filmer, Sir R., 294. 

Fisher, Marv, 20S, an- 

Fiske, John\ " W.atcring of the Olive-Plant," 

facsimile title-page of, 157. 
Fleet .Street, tumult in, (n. 
Florida, Huguenots massacred in, 56, 76. 
Fortune, ship, H3, 
Fox. (leorge, 205. 
France, 29; damaged by iiersecution of Albi- 

gcnses .md H uguenots, 33, 3O, 39, 40 ; failure 

of K:ef<irination in, 41. 
Francis of Assisi. lO, 31. 
Francis II., la^t Roman emperor, 4. 
Fninklin, Benjamin, 20. 
Franks, 22. 

Frederick II. of Prussia, 41. 
Frederick IL. Roman emperor, i^, 2S. 
Freeman. K. A.. 15. 
French in America. i6,S, 277, 307. 310. 
French Revolution, 41, 45. 

(JarilintT, Sir t.'hristopher, no, 117. 

('•aidiner, S. R., 34. 104. 107, uotr.i. 

(iardiner, Lyon, 141 ; autograph, 141. 

( lauls, iS, 

Cienev.i. 51. 

(Jeorge III., 30- jio. 

tJcnnanic invasmus of Roman empire, 14-23. 

G:.'tty>buig, battle (>f, 4^. 

('filbert. .Sir H., 50. 

GladsttMit?. \V. I",., if.. 

Gotfe, William, 222, 245, 24'^ 2S4 ; jnirtraii and 

autogr.iph, 220. 
" Goixl News from New England," Wins- 
low's, facsimile title-paue c»f. 105. 
Gookin. Daniel. 24S ; autograph. 24X. 
Gorges, .^ir Frrdinando. 91. <j2, «/>. 101, no, 

117, 120, 121, 129, if>8, i^H^, 2S1, 2S2, 2S7; 

aimigrajih. <;i. 
Gorges, Ferdinand », the younger. 2^'!*'. 
Gorges. John. loi. 1 n). 
Gorges, Robert, loi. 
Gorton, Saiinie!. i7'>-iX7. 210: autograph. i.Si : 

facsimile of title-]>age iil his " Simplicitic's 

Def.nce." i^v- 
Gortonojjes. is^. 
Go^iKild. Itartholomew. 7;. 
Goths, 22. 

Grafton, Imlian village near. 233, 
Grants of territory-, contiicting, 92, 96, 9**, 99, 

101. no. 
t Jreek cities. 10. n). 
Green, J. R.. 64, «<>/«•. 
(»regory of Tours, 15. 
Gregory th" Great. 15. 
Grt'^oiy VII., ^2. 
Gregi)rv XL. 3'.. 
Grev, Ladv Jaiu', loS. 
Grindal, Edmund, 5'.. 
< Iroton, 2''2. 
(ruiana. 71). 

Guilford, old stone house at, 146. 
( inisfs, yu 50, ifi. 
Gustavus, .Adolphus, loS. 

• 

HadK'y. 212. 2ff2'. mysterious stranger at, 244- 

24^'. 
Halfway Covenant. 27S, 279. 
Hallowcll. Ri( hard, 717. 
Hamilton. AW'xander, 1^4. 
Ilanniton. Marquis of, 121. 





John, 


aiii..Sii.l*.44- 



































Jinin IhE ?nnicr, )«&. 

3.;rt.r,.,n.Th.«nJs.o.,. 






>u.iLU'. Lc.iris 


(k,i9i:ponmt>ad»ul<>- 




r liamku. i;. 

■Hfcd,l«l! icfiTjIbulldiDg, 


j-M'ini;;™' 


,nlMMh,^.-.rTr«nI WlBilcy 



&; 



if Ili.'Kli;rin.'..n.1; nhn of , *9, 



INDEX 



325 



Mai>s of New England: Smith's, 74, 82, 83; 

HubLard's 268, 269; Wood's, ij8, 139. 
Marathon, 152. 
Mtirblehead, 248. 
Marlborough, 258, 262. 
Marstou Moor, 46. 
Martha's Vineyard, 73, 22S, 233, 307. 
Maiy Stuart, 50. 
Mary Tudor, 34, 51. 

Mason, John, ca|<tain in Pequot war, 142-144. 
Alason, Jolin. grantee of lands in the Piscata- 

qua country, loi. 121, 122, 129, 16^, 281, 

2><2, 287; autograph of, 142. 
Ma>>on, Rolx-Tt, 283. 
Massachusetts annexes New Hampshire towns, 

ibS, 2>y, and Maine, 288 ; population in 

i^>4^) '7.?» ^"d in i6y«), 2^y; brought into 

f-ympatliy with Virginia, 3tx^ 
Ma*< achusetts liay, Loninany of, 102. 
Massachusetts charter 01 1^29, facsimile of, 

lob, 107 ; of i^>yii facsimile of, 30H, jcxy. 
Massasoit, x<>, 125, n8, 2,^8. 
jMitsstKvitchusetts, or " At-the-great Hill '' 

tribe, i ^o. 
Mather, Cotton, 214; charges against the 

Quakers, 181 ; remark about the theocratic 

idea. 22!;. 
Mather. Increase, 245, 24^1, 76«;, 27S, 2H4, 2(,5, 

304 ; facsimile of litle-page of his " Indian 

W.ir." 2<'h); ]wrtrait, 294. 
Maverick, Samuel, 95,96, no, iHS, 101, 2i<>. 

224 

Mayflower, ship, 43, 56. 80-S2, 1)2 ; the com- 
pact driwn up in her cabin, 137. notr. 

Mayflower Pilgrims, autographs of, 85. 

Mayhew, Thomas, 22S. 

Afa7zini. 4^. 

Mfdfield, 2'i2. 

Kfedfnrd, Cradock house in, 161. 

Media, 10. 

Meeting-house in Hingham, !«)$• 

Melanchthon, 51. 

Melville, Andrew, 64 

Mendon, 24 <, 2'i.'. zI^'k 

" Meritorious Price," Pynchon's, facsimile 
titl<--page of, i.>4. 

Mi-riimack ri\cr, i.)i, 2t)'). 

Merrymount, «<5. </>, iio, 121. 

Miant«momo, iSa-iS^, 235, 24S; his mark, 

l-<2. 

Mi'idl'.* class in England. 24. 

MiHdlehorough, 242, 24^, 2^2. 

Milford, 14^. 148. 

M'liu.Tii, II. H., 36, 2f/i, notes. 

Milton. John, 4'. 45. 4'i, 127, 212, 256, 294; 
t^ortrait and autograph. 42. 

Minot l-ouse in Dorchester, i(>3. 

Mohawks, 131, 144, 235. 

Moheuans, i^i, 143, 144, iS2-iS/>, 235, 237. 
241. 2'.',. 

Monaflnock, mi. 

M(»nmouth, Duke of, 107, 28S, 2</>. 

Monlfs'juieu, 45. 

Mr»ntfort, Simon de, 26, 27 ; seal of, 25. 

Moors in S|i.nn. <). 30. 

Morton, Thomas, 05, •i'', no, 117, 187: fac- 
simile of ritle-paiie of his '* New Knglish Ca- 
naan," 9^; anio'^raph. <>;; facsimile of title- 
page of his *' New Kngland's Memorial," 

2^2. 

Mount Hope. 2.^2, 24 V 

" .Mourt's Relation," facsimile title-page of, 

** Mu'.:wump *' in F.liot's Hible, 230. 
Miinster, 207. 



Nantasket, 96. 

Nantes, Edict of, 39, 153. 

Nantucket, 228, 233. 

Napoleon, 41. 

Narragansett campaign of 167^, map of, 251. 

Narr.igansett Fort, storming ol, 253. 

Narragansetts, 80, 88. 131, 142, 144, 181-186, 

,235. ^37. 24«. 248-254, 262. 
Nasel)y, I attle of. 26, 46. 22 r. 
Natick, Indian village, 233, 242. 
Nation-making, 6, 30. 
Naumkeag, 97, 101. 
Navigation laws, 282, 283. 
Netherlands, 29. 
New Amsterdam. 132, 225. 
Newark founded, 225. 
Newbury, Spencer-Pierce house in, 17c. 
New England, great seal of, under Andros, 

New England, map of, i ; Smith's, 82, 83 ; 
Wood's, 1^8, 139: Hubbard's, 2(.S, 2(h^. 

'* New England's Jur,a> cast up at London," 
i()o. Hi I. 

'* New England's Memorial," Morton's, fac- 
si • ile title-page of. 232. 

New England's I'lantation, Higginson's, fac- 
simile tilU•-])a^e C)f, i>4. 

" New England's .Salamander discovered,' 

" New English Canaan," Morton's, facsimile 

title-pagi: of, 93- 
New Ham[ shire, begiiniings of, 129. 16X, 2S7, 

30^). 
New Haven (ulony. 145-148; annexed to Con- 

nc( ticuf , 221-225. 
" New Haven's fettling," facsimile title-page 

of, 147. 
New house. Thomas, 207. 
New Netlu-rland, 131. 
Newpott, k. I., 129, 172, 180. 
New South (. hurcli, 270. 
New r«i\\n, $ct- Cambridge, Mas^. 
Niche wane, 131. 
Nithols, Richard, 212, 224, 28S. 
Nipnuitks. ni, 2^7. 241, 243.247, 254, 257,262. 
Noddle's l-s'and. ./>, 1S8. 
Norfolk. 5S. 

Norman conquest of England, 25. 
North, Rovier, 2;4. 
North Virginia, 73-7'>. 
Northampton, 2U1. 
Norton. John, 203, 204, 27^, 280; aut<»graph, 

2<-'j: faisimile litle-page of his " Heart of 

New England Rent," 20«j. 
Norwich, scene of Miantonoino's defeat, 183. 
Ny.intics, 130, 143. 

Odovakar, i, 3. 41. 

()j'b\\ays, 2 M>. 

Oldham. lohn, 1 10, 135, 140. 

" Old .Mortality, " 2'>.^ 

Old South ( hurch, 2'>2, 279. 294, 300. 

Ord«r ireatini; th'* P.oard of Selectmen of 

Charlestown. facsinule of. 12S. \m. 
Order naming Boston, facsimde of, 113. 
Orestes, 1. 
Oriental metht)d of nation-making, 8.«;, 11, 17, 

Otis, Tanit*s, 3H1 

Oxford university, 5O, 118, 2(^4; parliament, 

Tii2. 

P.-i.'dobar>tisfs, t<)8. 
Paine. Thomas. 27^, 
; Painter, 'I'homas. 195. 



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jr.i:-h. I ;: : l.usiniile of title-iij;;e of liii 



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I'.ir.: \iii. n: I..:: •■ 1 ■■ .1 ' : '■■•T- ! \ I ht:'-- I . 'Jii.ili- i^. i"-, i*'". their o;->Miii»n>, 205-20;; 

!..'-■■ \:'..u :i |l»iM.tii. i ■■*--• 1*=, 24^; ihcy 
wi :!.■ ...;'>n-. ji**, .'jq. why (.'haTliro II. 
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I ■. .1: -. .• ;4. J- ; 
t.i ■.-.i ■. . I • ! . 11, Wi'.V. 
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I... li ;■". 1 .:w.i:i. .'45. j-j-.'^* . jy , i:<4 ; 

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U>.\ .■.ii..;i..i: lii I 1 ;.;'ai:U. .»? -51. 

K ..I II- .■■iL'-. ..••.-22i. ?4S. .•"4. 

k< u .^ i:.ut:> i.oi the nitiii\ciit die Piirii.iii 

k' jt - !ii.i:.> :., !. • t.'ix.itioii withmii. 2<i, ii;. 
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INDEX 



327 



Sassacus, 140-142, 143, 144, 241. 
Sausiimon, 241, 242. 
Savoy, 34. 41- 
Say-and-Sclc, Lord, 132. 
Saybrook, 133, 135. 
Scituatc, iH«, 2<>2. 

Scotland, great achievements of, 166. 
Sci»lt, Sir W., 132, I^(^), 245, 29*^ 
Scotlisli prisoners sent to iJoston, 153. 
Scrooby, 3?<, 67 ; m.\p slu>winK position of, $q ; 

manor house at, 67. 
Seal of the Council fur New England, 121 ; of 

Harvard l"ollej;c, 141 ; of New En;;laiul 

under Andros, 304. 
Sed^nioor, battle of, 107. 
Separatists, ^>i-63, bj, 116. 
Servetus, Michael, 51. 
Shaftesi>iiry. I-ord, -v*.?. 
Shakes) mare, Williani, <)2. 
Shawnuit i)eninsnla, i/). 
ShawonuM, iSi 1X7. 
Sheldon. (ieorj;e, 24''. 
Shcpartl. Thomas, 2v>- 

Sherman, Mrs., and tli'* stray pic, 114-1 1'j. 
Shjllin^?^, pint'-tnc, 2i<j, 2J><. jSi. 
Ship of the seventeenth century, H3. 
Shipnioiicv. 12^- 

Sidney, Al^-rnon, 41, 45, 273, 204, y>('. 
SiijisnnuKl, Ronian emperor, ^i. 
** Simplicilie's 1 )elenee," Gorton's, facsimile 

title- p.i>;.' of, i^ ). 
Skeiloii, Samuel, 115. 
Slaveiy. 1 1. 
Smith, Adam, i'>6. 
Smith, John. 74, y:,. S2, ')i ; ]H)rtrait and anto- 

t:ra])h, 77; fac>-iniile ot' titlf-paue <»f Ins 

" 1 >cscrij)lion of New Kn;^l.in«.l,"' 7^ ; niap 

of New Knizlantl. Hj, ,x^. 
Sol'.Mun Lia;4Ue anil Covenant, u-'. 
Somerset, ^i. 
South. inipton, *»'i. 
Soiuhamplou, Karl of. 1^2. 
SoiuhoM. I- 1., 1 4'). 
Sjviin. o. ^o. 
S|)cedwell. ship, S-, 

Speiu rr- }*i- lie Iukim- in Ne\\l)nr\. \j^. 
*• >piritii.il Miik for l'...^t(.n Hal;..-," John Col- 
ton's. f.u>iinili- tillr-p.tiic of, 13^'. 
.Spoi'> •^vvtcin, 1 2. 
Sprinuh' 'd, i <' , -• j ^ j^o. 2^2. 
.Si.imi.ui'in of tJK' ^-ire.iir of human life, 14. 
Staniford, 1 .'<.). 14'.. 
.'st.nni> Alt <on^re><-. _•'•. 
Standivh, MUl^. '^.>. ><j, v. ; portrait and aulo- 

L'r.iph, 07 
States ( it-neral. 27. 
Steele, A., 70, tii>{t'. 
Stein, 4^. 

Ste\ tiivon, M.irmadiike. 214. 
.Stih-v, K/i.t, i*<7. Tii>(,\ jji. 
Stirlint:, K.ul if. 121. 

Stou:'hton. Willi.im, 15;, 24S; aut«>j;raph, 155. 
.*^tr.ifford. I-'.irl ot. 117. 12^. i.>S. 
Stnbbs, William. 21. 
Sndhnrv, j*'J. 
Sne' i. 2 2. 
SuflFoJk. 5*^. 
Suffrage" re><trii ted tochnirh members, in Ma^- 

s.uhusetts, I |o. |(, ,ss, 221,, ?7S-2**o. .:Si. 

;<^, ^o«) ; in Ni w Hav<ii, 14S, ^315, 277. 
."^usqiiehanniK^k^, "*"<, i\\. 
Svvampscott. visit of Uapti.st*. to, 102-200. 
SwMizey. nias'^acre at, 242. 2'-'>. 
.'^wii/crjand. 1^. 27. 
Swords, tailpiece, jir. 



Tdlcotl, Major, completes the overthrow of 

the Narrajjan^etts, 263 ; autograph, 2t<3. 
Tamerlane, 45. 
'I'arraimes, 130. 2W. 
Taunton, 212, 243, 264. 
Tel-el- Kebir, <). 
Templars, 33. 
"Tenth Muse, The,'' lacsimile title-page of, 

2<>I. 

'I'eutonic institutions less nnxlilied in England 
than in ( iermany, 24. 

Texas secfl-bil!, 20. 

Thames t ivcr, <.onn., 131, 142. 

Th.mksijivins;, x^. 

1 heocr.itic ideal of the Purit.jus, i(.o; broken 
down, 225; its Services to political libert>, 
274. 

Thirty Years' W.ir, 107. 

I lioinpsoi\, P>en].imni, 4. 

lilly. Count, i \ \. 

'ritle-pa.i;es, t.n-imili. r>a) I's.ihn I'.ook, 171; 
lUeieton's r.iiefe ktlaiinn, ;i; lainbtidge 
Pl.it form, in ; Child's New I .n;,^i.tna's |i>nas, 
ii;<.); (. <>!ton's Spintu.i! Mi kf"i r.osionlIalH>, 
15S ; I ); (, lar.ition of ih.- >,i(| l'rr>i culion, 
_• i< 1 ; Idiot's .M-^onciuiu N.-w rtsl.imeiit, 2 ; : . 
1' isk'"s W.iteriu^ oi til.- ( ).i\ (:-l'..uu, 157; 
("loitoirs .'simp'.ii i/u-'s I.)it. nc . i>>j; Hiu- 
^in^fms New Knuivnd l''.int.Mon, ., j : 1 n- 
cieasr M.jther's [noi.ni W.ii, .•'• ; Moiion's 
Nevs !• ir^l tiul MenH)ri.»l. .• <j : Mort^'n's N\'w 
Kn:;lish C.m.i.in. ■>; ; Mourl*- Kcl.uio.;, i..;.; 
Nevv Haven's .^settliu'.;, 147; \<>rtoi:"s H..irt 
of New l'.n.iland K<'iii. jo j : i'\ m lien's Mcr- 
il'>rious I'ric, i.^j; ko-ici"- Iru-' Relation, 
72 ; .Mrs. kowl.uul-'iir- ( .iptivity. 2;^ ; 
.Smith's {)• >i ripiioii. 7.,: Tin; Tenth iMusi-, 
2)1 : I'he \N ick'd Man'> i'of.ion. .r'l.^ ; Wil- 
li. im"s I'te.itis-, i.'^ ; \^ lli^i"v\ ■• ( ioovl News 
from New J''.ii:.:I.uul, m;. 
Tolei.ition, l>udKy"s \ersi< 011. '.<*,: Roi^er 
\S illi ims's theory of. i?\: views of t'otum 
and Winlhrop, 202: ttue tlieorv express»*d 
b\ \'nne. 212. 

Toiqn.-m.ida, \i, 27 t.. 

Tortuic, how tile fndian likes to i-njov it, 

25^ 

'^..rvi^m in New KMuIaiul, biith of. 2^4. 

rotlloU-'-. ( "UUts ct . < ;. 
I ■•Ills. \^ Itt'f ot. 1 5J. 

Town meenn^-, _• >,. 
Tr.ii.in. I''. 

I r imounr, the, i:;?. 

I r.>s(.iin.u>-. f< uds <.f the, 20. 
Tre.\t, Robert, .'40,2^2, 21^, 2')'( : autograph, 

Turcot, \x.. 
Turks. .,. I. 
Turni-r. t.ipt.iin. .uitocr.iph. .''m : ili.feMts the 

N ipmu' k-. 2''.». 
Tviulall. Willi;iin, 4.). 
Tvr.mny .ind iiisnrrection in Uoston, 3'ii-^o". 

Ciicas, i^\. is.' 1^0, .»;S; .md his scni.Tw , th.-ir 
ni.oks. I*"). 

Cn-U'rhill. b>lm, 12**, i 4.'- r n : .uito-,:r.it>h, i4<. 

Cinon amon-4 coloniis needed f<>r military rea- 
sons. ;-^7. 

I 'nited .St ites. i<?, \ in. 

Cniversities. I'uritanism in the, ^b. 

V.uulals. 22. 

V.Mie, .'sir T?enry, 41, 126, 12'^, 129. 140. 21?, 

2- \ ; sutue of, 134. 
Vanity Kair, 1Q7. 



328 



INDEX 



Van Twiller, Wouler, 132. 

Va^s;ill, WillUni, i8H-i(y2, 219. 

Verres, Cains, 11. 

VirKinia, 24. 7.^ 79, 9S. 15S. 

Virginia C.unipany, 73 : suppres^sed by James 

I., 174. 
Voltaire, 4, 45- 
Vuljt.ile. 49. 

Wads worth, t!apt. Samuel, 2<;S, 2^2. 

Wadswortli, (!apt. (Charter Oak), 2ty9. 

Wahlrun, Major, 2'>^. 

Wiilfonl, Tliornas, in>. 

Walli-n-ktrin, 144. 

WalNiin;ham, Sir I'., 5O. 

Waltrrs. LiK y. 2*<S. 

Wa(np.ino.i>:s, v,, 1 ^o. zij. 2^2. 

W.irnpiun a^ a U };•»» tender, a^^i ; specimen (if. 

Ward, Natlia«ii<'l, -'77. 
W.ndvwil, Luli.i, j'>7. 
Warf.nr not an e^.'^^■ntiaI part of the Knijlish 

nu'lhcKl of nation-niakin-v;, iS; N\ith s<ivages. 

surr to be trnmlent. 25''. 257. 
Warwu k, i>7, :/«»_•. 
Waiwu k, Karl of. 17.', 1S7, j'-i 
W,ishiij;:tou, (icor^if. 2''. lo-/, i';2, 221. 
W.i>-l,in;;t"n, .^ir Henrv. 2ji. 
" W.it.iii)-; of thf Olive-I'I.int," Fi>ke's, 

f.u^iinilc titl(-paue <il. i";7. 
\V;i:ir:i-uii. II'.. Ill, iiJ. i.u~'3''- 
N\ attar oiii ;^i-, 1 ^; 
Willie, Tlioni.i . jj-i 
" Wcit of Wi-li-loii-\Vi>h.'' .'45. 

Wi ([IM'-h. .^ v^- 

Wt v-a'4u*-'<t, (,;. ij'^. 
We-.t<iri, rhoiii.i^ . .,1;. 
W(lhi.rsfirld, 1 ;;. 1 V". 
W(\ IlK'lllh, illt.ul. oil, .'^J. 

W'-yinoulli, Cu'Li-*:, 7^, 74. ,,i, 

Whallcy, l.dwaf'l, jji, >.■.'. .^.\S- aiito^r.ii)h, 

2?-\ 

Wli(;i-i\vTi'^l:l, I'.lin. autoyraiih of, 127. 
While, John, ■(-. 1^, i«m, 1U3. 
Whi:» ir.ihh, 155. 



" Wicked Man's Portion, The," facsimile title- 

\MfiC of, 267. 

Willard, Joseph, yo. 

Wiliard, Samuel, 300, 304; portrait and auto- 
graph, 300. 
Willard, Simon, 244, 304 ; autograph, 244. 
William the Silent, 51, 63. 
William ill.,3»)4-307; portrait and autograph, 

Williams, Roger, i22-i2'>, \hh, iOi<, 170, 171, 
iSo, iXi, iS3, 192, 2CO, aii-212, 25+, 276; 
facsimile of tiile-)>age of his Treatise on the 
Algonquin I^nguagf, 122; his church in 
.Salem, 125; autograph, 126. 

WiKon, Deborah, 207. 

Wilson, John, 12X, 19S, 215, 27S; portrait, 279. 

VVindsr>r, Conn., 132, 133, 135, 130. 

Wmslow, Kdward, «K 174, 191 ; portrait and 
autograph, S7 ; facsimile of title-pace of hi» 
*■ Ciood News from New England,' 105. 

Winslow, Jolin, 30*. 

Win».low, J<)>iali, 227, 228, 242, 247, 250, 254, 
2<;7 : |K>rtrait and autograph, 240. 

Winthrop, John, i<>8, ick^, 114, 121,126, 127, 
I2X, IM, 134. «4^. «54. «^o. »'>6, i,S7, iSX, 
202, 277, 27W ; \ior\ra.\\, /rontisfiece ; statue 
of. 1 1 I. 

Winthroji, John the younger, 113, 213, 215, 
22^, 247; jMirtrait and autograph, 133. 

Wise, Jiilin. 302, 310; autograph, 302. 

Wii'er. William, 1 ',15-197. 

Woll.isiiin, Captain, «)5. 

'* Wondir-working Providence,'* 271-274. 

Woixl, William. n»ap<»f New England, 13H, 139. 

\\ on ester, battle of, 153, 221 ; capture of, 221. 

Winu-st'.r. Ma'«s, 243, zhz. 

W re lit ham. 2^^. 

W\clif, John, 35. 36, 46,49, 54, 20O; portrait 

Vork>ihire, 145. 
Voiktown, 2«». 

Zi no. Roman emperor, 3. 
Zuni-, 23''. 



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